Iron Born Steel Forged
by Pentel123
Summary: An Iron Islands ISOTs. Read as the SI trying to figure out what has happened to him and why. Once he does, will there be enough time to prepare? What challenges will he face? How badly has bringing disease with him affected the world he thought he knew?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Slush squelched under the tires as I pulled into the gas station's gravel parking lot sniffling and coughing. I cursed the flu, the weather, and the dealership's service scheduling policies. Two hours to the dealer, three hours there, and two hours back, alone the whole way, was a shitty way to spend a Saturday.

The gas station was the last stop before crossing the long earthen dam over Lake Sakakawea. I needed to piss, grab some Hals and maybe some Dayquil. The flu hit me that morning. It was complete and total bullshit since I'd been vaccinated. Apparently, the scientists and doctors guessed wrong and a different strain had jumped from bird to man or where it was the flu came from. The vaccine was worthless and the new batches being made were being distributed to children and the elderly first.

Heading inside, I made for the bathroom first; then I worked my way through the shelves looking for a chemical solution to my biological problem.

Inside the building, there was a surprising number of people consider my car was the only one in the parking lot. A man and woman in their forties sat at one of the two booths by the coffee and hotdog machines. They seemed to be in quiet conversation. Wandering the shelves with me was another Airman, a jacked one at that, by the look of him. His hair was close-cropped, his bearing proud.

'_Probably some security forces guy looking to be a PJ or maybe just a muscle head.' _I gave him a nod and didn't spare him another thought.

There was a greasy bald mechanic busy working on the busted slushie machine. He worked silently, but his eyes drifted off the machine as he worked. A younger girl, high school age, maybe just past, was working the counter. She was flipping through a magazine and checking her phone every few seconds. Near her was an older woman, hunched over with a cane, looking through the lottery tickets.

There was also another guy there, but absolutely nothing about him stood out. He kept surprising me as I searched for the medicine section of the shelves. Every time I saw him was like seeing him for the first time. He was the perfect stranger. Total average. A part of any crowd. Even if that crowd is eight people in a gas station service mart.

I found the medicine I wanted, grabbed a bottle of water, and went up to the counter. As I reached the counter I thought I saw a quick flash of light, but no one else seemed to notice it. I paid, got in my car, downed a couple pills of Dayquil, threw a Hals in my mouth, took a sip of water, and drove away.

The snow was picking up and I fishtailed a bit pulling onto the highway. My wipers were struggling to keep my windshield clean. I was starting to think if I should've waited at the gas station for the snow to stop when I sneezed violently, losing sight of the road for a second.

When I recovered, I saw something, a horse, a deer, maybe a small moose in the middle of the road. I slammed the brakes and tried to swerve away from it.

Instead, I slid on the slush, fishtailed, and I found myself heading off the dam and into the ice-covered lake below. I braced for impact as my car rushed over the edge. For a second I flew through the air. Then I hit the ice.

The ice was weak and swallow. My car slammed through it and cold water began rushing in through the ruined windshield. I tried to get out, but my seatbelt failed to release. The water filled the car, and then my lungs, and the world turned dark.

XxX

On the bridge stood seven forms, free of their disguises.

"Was that entirely necessary? Surely there would have been a better way to bring him over." The maiden asked.

"We had few means and less time. The Weave is weak here and now. We need a new champion and so we took what we could." The old crone answered, raising her lantern to illuminate them all.

"He is without family nearby. He will be mourned, but no one is doomed by his disappearance. No children will go without a father. No wives without a husband." The mother said.

"He is a warrior of this land. He will overcome his death and rise to meet the challenges he faces with honor and justice." The knight said, slamming a fist against his breastplate.

"He is learned. A man of numbers and designs. While not a creator himself, he will be able to inspire others to light their forges and remake the world as is needed for the coming future." The blacksmith said his leather apron shifting in the breeze.

"He is a man of law and order. He has made oaths and kept them. He will demand the same of others. He will bring justice with him where he goes and woe be those that would deny it." The father said sternly.

The maiden nodded her head. "This is all true as you each have said. We saw this and more when we inspected the one choice we have been given. Why did we come to the here and now? Surely there would have been a better time and place. Why choose one from here and not one of our own."

Five of the other six sighed and shook their heads as one.

"They profess our name, but who could we choose that another would not try and wield. The burning beast continues to spread, the old ones slumber and pass, and the drowned fool is still unwilling to listen to reason. He is too slippery to kill and too stubborn to change. No, we must take this risk." The crone and father said in unison.

"There is also the matter of the Trinity only allowing us into the here and now. We must accept the help he will offer and wait for a chance to repay his kindness." The mother and the knight said.

"Fine, but was this the best way? We have drowned him to bring him through. Will he survive the transit and where will he arrive?" The maiden asked.

The other five turned to the sixth and he chuckled. "Aye, he will be drowned and the slippery eel in his halls will have noticed. I imagine he will awaken to a field of iron." The strange one held up a finger to forestall their protests. "He is our chosen champion and will not fall to the eel's grasps like he no doubt hopes. He is blessed by us and will survive for I do not want him back so soon. He also carries a gift as you surely noticed. That gift is one of many he carries. While he will surely suffer from my littlest gifts back home, I will not accept him from them. His will burn across the world and change more than he himself alone could hope."

The other six shivered as they processed the stranger's words. The father spoke. "Then we best return to judge those about to stand before us. It seems we will be busy for a time."

The seven joined hands, collapsed into each other, and became one. A seven-pointed star appeared in the air before the one and he disappeared into it. On Earth, the snow continued to fall as a now empty car sank to the bottom of the lake. Elsewhere a body floated to the surface and washed to shore on stony island.

The body was found by men bearing a coat of vairy vert and sable. They thought the strangely clad man to be dead until he began to cough water and collapsed. They then rushed to take him to the castle. Some then went to find a Drowned Man, for surely this stranger must have been sent by the Drowned God. Others rushed to find a maester to ensure the man did not die. Others rushed to find their lord and tell him what had transpired.

Two days later the coughing started.

XxX


	2. Chapter 1:Awake and Lost

**Chapter 1: Awake and Lost**

I woke with a start. Then I started coughing. I hunched over in bed as a lung tried to violently exit my body. Once the coughing finally stopped, I leaned over to spit the phlegm into my bedside waste bin. It was only when I heard the phlegm splat on something hard instead of the crinkle of an old plastic shopping bag that I realized I wasn't in my room.

'_The fuck. Why am I in a stone room, in a bed made of wooden posts, with… are those furs and quilts? Is that straw beneath my bed?' _

I looked around the quarter circle shaped room. Walls of grey plaster chipped and faded by age stared back at me. Besides the bed, the room consisted of a small square window in the wall, through which a salt breeze blew, a bedside table with a rough clay pitcher, and a worn wooden bowl.

I was painfully thirsty, my muscles ached, my stomach at once demanded food and rebelled against the idea. I tried to make sense of where I was.

'_The last thing I remember… I was...' _Then it hit me. '_I was falling off the bridge into the lake after dodging that deer or whatever. Am I... Dead?_' I would love to say I calmly assessed the situation. If anyone ever asks, I'll swear I dealt with it with poise and stoicism.

The reality is I collapsed back into the bed and fell apart. Once I finally pulled myself together I tried to think things through.

'_Stop panicking and retrace your steps._ _I got my car serviced and was heading home from Bismark.' _

So far so good. I remembered getting my car tuned up. Once the service was complete I headed home.

'_It started snowing and flu symptoms were getting worse, so I stopped at a gas station. I needed to get something to help me make it the last hour home and I need to use the bathroom._ _Speaking of.'_ I dragged myself out of the strange bed to try to find a restroom.

I shivered as my bare feet hit the cold stone. I looked around but didn't see my shoes anywhere. I continued on barefoot, making a note to keep watch for my shoes and socks.

'_Then it was over the bridge, the swerve for the… let's go with moose. Moose sounds best for why I dodged. Then… Then it was over the edge, into the water,' _I swallowed thickly as I remembered what happened. '_Into_ _the embrace of icy death, but I'm not dead.'_

I stumbled to the door, wincing as I felt the chafing caused by sleeping in wet clothing. The door opened to a dim hallway with another worn wood door across from me. Torches burned lowly in sconces. To the left was a partially open door, and to the right the hallway turned ninety degrees. "If I were a bathroom, where would I be?"

Since the door was open, I went left in search of the bathroom. I pulled the door open and stepped out to an even more impossible sight.

To my right, waves crashed against a rocky beach. To my left was a five, maybe six-story tall triangular stone keep. Ahead was a tower, looking back over my shoulder I saw I'd just exited a tower, and there was another in front of me and one to my left, all at least as tall as the keep

Slate-roofed buildings butted up against the inside of the wall I was standing on. The ground on the inside looked like hard packed dirt.

"What the fuck?" I breathed. I was so stunned it took a second before I saw the bodies in the courtyard. A few were strewn by one of the buildings that might have been a forge. Others were at the door to the keep.

I would have kept staring, but the demands of my body broke my stupor. Accepting, for the moment, that I was apparently in a medieval castle filled with a number of corpses I gave up on a bathroom. I shuffled over to the outside edge of the wall, noting it had both crenelations and matriculations.

"Well, that's convenient." I thought.

With my most pressing need taken care of, I tried to take stock and build a basic plan of survival action, assuming I was still alive, not in a coma or dreaming everything and still waiting to wake up to go to Bismark to get my car serviced.

'_Water, food, shelter, fire, clothing, tools, other people.' _I listed to myself a few times to make sure it was set in my mind. The raw feeling in my throat spurned my onwards to find water. '_The room I was in can probably serve as my shelter. I guess I need to check the other doors in there and find the stairs down to the ground level.'_

With a slow bow-legged gait, I returned to my room and took stock. I peeled off my jeans. My smartphone was gone, having been sitting in the center cup holder of my car, but my wallet was still in my pocket. The money was ruined, but the cards might come in handy for something, and the few coins were at least unique. I took off the rest of my clothes and checked myself over. Aside from some salt and the red chafing I was okay physically aside from my illness.

I checked the clay pitcher. There was some kind of liquid inside. I pour a bit into the wooden bowl. It came out slightly pink so I gave it a sniff. It smelled faintly of alcohol. I dipped my finger in it and pressed it against my lips to get a taste.

'_Wine? Really weak wine? I guess it would at least be free of any microbes. It is something until I can find water. And fire I to boil it. Which means I probably need some kind of pot too.'_

I took a careful sip of the wine from the bowl and set it down. I wanted to down it quickly to sate my thirst but the taste and fear it might have something else kept me from more. A moment later my stomach rebelled against it. I rushed to the window and vomited. Some of the vomit made it out the window, but more just laid on the stone and dripped back into the room. After a few minutes of dry heaving, I wiped my mouth with covers from the bed.

"Yuck. No more of that. Well, this room is ruined unless there is nowhere else to sleep."

I looked for other clothes but didn't find any. With great reluctance, I pulled my pants back on and went exploring.

The tower I was in held nothing of immediate value until I got to the first floor. There I found barrels of preserved meat, jars of pickled plants, jams, other preserved food, and a few barrels of wine. "Okay, that is food found. The tower works for shelter if I can't find somewhere else. Now I need water, fire, and friends. Let's keep exploring." I muttered.

I stepped outside and was dry heaving as the stench of death hit me. While up on the wall, the sea breeze protected me from the smell. At ground level, the corpses produced a horrible miasma. I stumbled back into the tower and closed the door.

'_Maybe stick to the walls for now.' _I thought. '_Never going to blame a DF dwarf for going insane because of miasma again. Assuming I can ever play video games again.' _ Since the outside was a no-go at the moment, and I was less than enthusiastic about climbing the stairs while sick and chaffed, I did a quick inventory of the food, and a bit of careful tasting.

There wasn't anything amazing, but nothing made me want to vomit like the wine earlier had. Eventually the need to know more about where I was won out over my aversion to pain.

I went up the stairs and out onto the wall. I walked down the wall in both directions trying to gain access to the other towers. Unfortunately, the doors were barred and I had to walk all the way back in both cases.

'_Is it better to have made that trip four times, or should I have expected the second tower to be the same as the first one I visited.' _I thought, slumped against a barrel of wine.

All I gained was seeing a gatehouse for the castle, though I couldn't tell if it was open or closed, and a few wisps of smoke rising from down the road that meandered out from the gatehouse. It seemed people were alive somewhere around here.

With the high road closed to me, I braved the courtyard again. I started with the keep, but it was sealed tight. The bodies near the entrance had beat their fists bloody trying to get in if the state of their hands and the red smears where anything to go by.

My guess about a forge proved true. There was plenty of iron and the means to work it laying around, but no people aside from the aproned corpses nearby. The fires were nearly out, but it was a source of heat. I decided to make it my base since fire was going to be critical to boiling water.

A bit more searching led to a few barrels of water, some charcoal, and a bronze pot. I filled the pot with water, brought it and the charcoal back to the forge, and coxed it back to life. I started some water boiling.

Searching for the basic needs had kept me busy, but now I was left to consider my situation as I waited for the water to boil.

Item 1: I was in a castle of some kind

Item 2: The bodies had all been dressed like something out of a fantasy movie.

Item 3: I was currently in a forge

Item 4: I had drowned. Pretty sure on that one.

It seemed the most insane possibility, but the only thing I could think of was that I had been transported to another world at the moment of death. That or I was dreaming in a coma, but I didn't think that would bring with it the joys of chafing and the flu. _`I know there is that phrase about the impossible being the case if all other possibilities have been removed, but am I really suffering Isekaitis?'_

I snorted at the thought of a Mother's Basement anime PSA coming true, but decided to try and remember it. If nothing else it was a good laugh. After maybe I would try and remember the harem PSA.

'_Alright, let's assume I really have caught the epidemic sweeping the nation and pulling tens or hundreds of thousands of good hard working Americans to other worlds. If I really do have Isekaitis, which strand is it: A, B, C, or D.'_

I quickly reviewed what I could remember of the youtube video in my head. '_Chances are it isn't A or B unless I turn into a young girl or start meeting others. So am I 'that guy' or complete fucked?' _

'_Well if I am 'that guy' or completely fucked because this is a deconstruction, where am I?'_

The bodies in the courtyard looked to be servants and guards. I hadn't gotten into any of the other towers, so who knows if there was someone there hiding from whatever had killed the others.

A harsh sneeze interrupted by my musings and I wiped my snot covered hand on the stump below the anvil.

'_I am definitely in some kind of castle and every corpse so far has looked fairly human.'_

I considering possible video games based on what I played. After all, if I had caught Isekaitis, chances were it took me somewhere I knew about, right? Right?

Zelda, Skyrim, Dragon Age, all seemed possible and not total hellholes, depending on when in the timeline I was. Warcraft or any number of other fantasy video games I played would be a toss-up. Then I considered books. Eragon, Lord of the Rings, Sword of Truth, all probably a bad place to wind up.

"Of course, the worst would probably be Westeros or Warhammer," I muttered as the water started to boil. "Then again, maybe this is somewhere on Pern and I'll get to play with dragons only to die when the Thread falls."

As the boiling water started to steam, I pulled the pot off the coals using a pair of tongs that were lying nearby. I waited for the water to cool then took a little sip directly from the pot. It stayed down and slowly I drank the whole thing.

Feeling better, I hobbled out of the forge, holding my nose, and looked around again. '_Leaving those bodies lying about can't be good. If there is anyone else still alive they seem to have fortified themselves in the keep and up in the other towers for protection, but what killed these people?'_

I steeled myself, cursed my chafing, and walked over to the nearest body with a bow-legged gait. I coughed and gagged at the scent of piss, feces, and slowly setting in decay that wafted off the face-down body in mail and leather. I pushed it over using my feet, cursing that I was barefoot and resolving to find something to wear.

There was no blood but the body was covered in vomit and dried mucus. '_Is there some kind of plague sweeping the world I just entered.'_

I started coughing again and spit the phlegm out onto the ground beside me and away from the body. As it hit the ground, I had a horrible thought.

'_What if it is the flu? Thanks to patient zero, your's truly.' _

I fell back and away from the body. '_That can't be right. Disease is never a problem in world jumping stories. Sure they might be more interesting if it was, but you never see Columbian exchange problems happen. Gate didn't have it. Hell, Re:Zero didn't have it and that was case D if ever there was.'_

I took a few gulping breaths and started coughing violently.

'_So it is some other disease that just happened to show up at the same exact time? What does that look like the Blight to you? Greyscale? Camp Fever?'_

I fled from the body and back into the forge. I slumped against the wall, my legs spread in front of me. '_If it was the flu I just introduced, how bad has it been. The flu can kill in hours, right? It killed millions in what was it... 1917 or 1918 maybe.'_

It took a few minutes to get the worry and panic under control. Then I started laughing. "Well, wherever I am, things have changed. I wonder if it is just the castle or if the disease has spread beyond it. At least it wasn't smallpox, right? God above, could you imagine."

I kept talking to myself. It quickly went from trying to calm myself down to waging imaginary wars in all the different worlds I found myself in, to different random moments with the cast of characters from serious to played for laughs and ended with my falling asleep in the corner of the forge.

XxX


	3. Chapter 2:Still Lost

**Chapter 2: Still Lost**

'_Day 2?'_ I wondered when I woke. I groaned as I pulled myself from the floor. Everything hurt and already my flu was making themselves known. I set about making myself ready for the day. Fresh charcoal was thrown on the forge, another pot of water set to boil, and then the long walk to get food from the tower.

On my way to pick up food, I checked a small building between the tower and the forge. It was an outhouse of some kind. It didn't have any toilet paper, but there was a selection of smooth seashells sitting in there. I would have overlooked them as a wiping option if not for the bits of shit still on one of them.

'_Ouch, and ew.' _I thought, but a rumble of my stomach removed any other decision from the equation.

Finishing my business and dreaming of soap, I continued to the tower desperately in need of a name. I used a bit of the wine straight from one of the barrels to 'wash' my hands. The alcohol should get the worst right?

Then I gathered some food and went back to the forge. The water was just starting to boil, so I kept an eye on it while I went looking for a bowl or cup. I found one and filled it with a bit of the water. Once the water in the cup cooled enough not to burn me, I used it to wash my hands again. Then I started cooking the food on the edge of the forge.

'_Not going to pass a health inspection, but the heat should kill anything.'_

Once I ate and hydrated, I continued exploring. I headed for the side of the keep I hadn't made it to the day before. To my surprise, Both the door to the gatehouse and the gate itself were open.

The closer I got to the gatehouse the stronger the stench of death grew.

I held my nose and continued closer. What I found was a bloodbath. '_What happened here?' _

Bodies there were strewn across the inside of the gatehouse. A large winch with ropes running towards the top of the gatehouse was jammed by an ax. The bodies had been left where they fell. Two were locked in eternal combat, an ax and a dagger buried in each other's guts.

'_What do I do now? I could stay here and try to get into the other towers or the keep or I leave and try to find someone alive somewhere else.'_

I weighed the pros and cons of each option. In the end, I opted to stay at the castle for now since it had everything I needed. If I could get into the keep, I could make for the nobles offices and try to find something to help me lock down where I was. Best case there was nothing on the road between the castle and the town. Worst case there were all kinds of monsters and I wasn't leveled properly. Better to play it safe.

I pried the ax out of the winch and slipped it through a belt loop. It wasn't the most secure and it bumped against my legs, but I felt better carrying something with an edge.

I decided to try the other towers before the keep in case there was something that could help me in them. '_Like maybe a key to the keep.'_

The gatehouse had a door that led out onto the walls. The first tower was open on this side. There was more water and food in this tower. It had a basement, unlike the one I woke up in. The basement held ingot, ore, chopped wood, and charcoal.

It also had a trio of bodies dead in their bed on the second level. It seemed almost like a family of servants. An older man, a greying woman, and a boy of maybe ten. They died clinging to each other in the end.

'_All these bodies is going to be a real issue. I'm already sick. I can't risk it getting worse. The flu can kill and I don't want to add myself to that number.' _

There wasn't anything particularly flammable in the courtyard, so if I gathered the bodies I could probably cremate them. It wasn't a thought that filled me with excitement, but I couldn't think of a single world were burning the bodies of the dead was a bad idea.

'_Of course, if there are people alive in the other tower or keep how will they react to that?'_

I put off the decision and decided to try the last and largest tower from the ground. The doors were all sealed and there were no windows on the inside walls. I could walk around and try to get in from the gatehouse side. Or…

The door was made of wood.

I had an ax...

'_This will probably be quicker anyway_,' I thought as I took the ax and started chopping. If there was someone alive inside, hopefully, they would open it or start yelling. If not…

The sun was well past its zenith before I was able to get inside the tower. I slipped the ax back into my belt loops. I entered the last tower and looked around. It was a single room barracks by the look of it with the stairs that could be closed off by another door going up the backside of the tower.

In the center of the room, a cold hearth sat. It was open from every side, but it looked like there was a vent in the ceiling to carry away the smoke as it rose. '_Wonder where that leads.'_

The front half of the room was given over to long table and benches. The back half was filled with beds. I did a quick count and found the beds were far short of the number of benches. '_Are there more beds further up or do they live in shifts or the other towers but eat here?'_

I made my way up the stairs which were behind a door perpendicular to the wall about halfway around the tower. The second level was filled with weapons racks and armor stands. I looked over it and consider taking something. I picked up a mace and found it a lot heavier than I expected.

'_Maybe later.' _I thought as I put it back down.

I took a pair of leather boots instead. They weren't comfortable, and I wished for socks, but they were better than nothing. My feet had become disgusting from walking around barefoot and I was grateful to have them covered again.

I wondered who sealed the tower. There were no bodies in the barracks on the first floor. No one in the storeroom-armory?- on the second floor. I found my answer on the third floor.

There were two bodies lying on the ground among the racks of metal bolts and stone. One was a boy dressed in a leather jerkin and cloth pants. The other was a girl in a grey homespun dress. I checked the boy first. He was alive. He stirred slightly when I checked for a pulse but didn't wake.

I looked up to see the girl staring fearfully at me with wide dark eyes. She tried to back deeper into the racks but collapsed and curled into a ball as she started coughing. I stood slowly and stepped back, waiting for her to stop coughing. When she stopped, she began to whimper and mutter.

The boy stirred. He turned towards her and said something in a rasp. "Yarsha."

'_I really hope that is her name.' _I thought when I heard the strange word. The girl kept whimpering. The boy struggled to push himself up. Then he looked up and saw me.

"Ter knoyt rert?" The boy rasped, shuffling to himself between me and the girl. He swayed unsteadily as he tried to stand.

'_Fuck,' _I thought. '_That isn't English.'_

"Ter knoyt rert!" The boy said again. This time there was less question and more command in his voice. He started coughing and snot began running down his nose. "Quient knoyt kil vree?" He forced out between coughs.

I raised my hands placatingly. "Whoa there. I don't mean any harm."

"Quient? Quient knoyt kontkin rert?" The boy said between bouts of coughing. He fell back to his knees. He looked back at his sister who had stopped crying and was looking between him and me, wide eyed in teror.

"Look, I don't mean you any harm. You're sick, I'm lost. Let me help you, and later you help me." I said, trying my best to back myself up with hand gestures. The boy eyed me warily, leading to a standoff.

I didn't want to leave them. The boy and girl were the first living people I had seen in days. Could they be the ones that sealed this tower? Why? Where was everyone else? How many people were supposed to be here? Where was here?

The fact they didn't speak English was going to be a problem, but it was a problem for later. Right now they needed to survive. Hydration, rest, and food were all needed to keep them alive. Proper medical care too, but I hadn't seen any phones or first-aid kits lying around, so the basics would have to do.

I sniffled and fought down a cough. I wasn't at one-hundred percent myself, but I was weathering the flu better than these children were. The staredown broke then the girl reached out shakily and touched the boy. He leaned down and she whispered something in his ear.

The boy scowled and looked away for a second.

"Ket vat. Gin yarsha vat. Jorg." The boy said halting before looking up again.

"What do you want," I asked. Really wishing I could understand them. Of all the possibilities of a world without English had to be der wurst.

"Gin yarsha vat." The boy said. He slumped to the ground, unable to hold his body up any longer. He kept repeating that same phrase, now staring me in the eye. "Gin yarsha vat." The girl started coughing again. Her whole body shuddered with each one.

"Gin yarsha kil hawst vjad oeln." He whimpered, tears started to well up in his eyes.

The boy kept begging in his strange language. That he was begging was pretty clear by this point. Tears streamed down his face, and he was struggling to push himself up again. It was a pathetic sight. A pathetic sight, but a moving one. I approached the pair. I picked the girl up. She was barely there, like lifting a feather pillow even as she continued to cough

The boy calmed down as I picked her up. He slumped to the ground, seemingly given over to death now that the girl was safe.

"Not so quick," I said, using a foot to jostle him. He looked at me confused. "Get up," I said making a sorta upward motion with one of my hands. "You too. Come on."

The boy struggled upwards, grudgingly using me like a ladder. Once he got his arm around my shoulder, we set off. It took a bit of careful maneuvering, a few close calls, a bit of muttered and strangled swears, but I got them down to the first floor. I put them in the beds closest the central hearth and tucked them in.

They both fell asleep quickly. I went out to the forge, gathered some of the charcoal, filled a bucket of water, grabbed the pot, and brought it all back. I made another trip for food and a final one to bring hot coals from the forge. I brought the hearth back to life and started some water boiling.

"I might be lost on an alien world, but I'm not completely alone, so I got that going for me," I muttered.


	4. Chapter 3:Mi Llama Es

Chapter 3: Mi llama es

'Day 4 after arrival.' I thought crawling out of bed.

I decided to define Day 1 as the day I woke up. The day I found the boy and girl was Day 2. Day 3 I finished exploring everything except the keep. The largest tower's upper levels held a few more bed, timber, slate, and lots of weapons racks, armor stands, siege ammunition for the ballista and trebuchets at the top of the towers.

Turns out, this castle was well set to repel a siege. The ballista were at the outer edges of the towers on a swivel, and the trebuchets were on a rotating platform. To be fair, these weren't counterweight, throw a ninety kilogram stone three-hundred meters, trebuchets. They were smaller man powered trebuchets. Either way, I took them as proof this castle was normally well manned.

So far, the boy and girl were keeping down the little bits of water and food I gave them when they woke. To make things easier, I'd found a second pot and put together something of a stew or soup which now rested on the edge of the heath, kept warm enough to eat.

The chafing I'd woken with the first day was fading slowly, but it didn't feel like I was getting any better from the flu. 'Of course moving around all the time if a surefire way to get better right?'

I decided I was going to lay in today. I made up the fire a bit, boiled some water, grabbed a bowl of soup, added some more food and water to the big bowl, pushed it closer to the fire to start it boiling, and sat back on my cot.

As I scrapped the last bit of soup out of the bowl using a wooden spoon I'd acquired, the boy woke up. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and look around. He seemed to be doing far better. The girl coughed and groaned as she woke.

"Yarsha, knoyt adst rert?" The boy said, pushing himself out of his bed and to her side. A bit of sleep, some food, a few cups of water and his strength was rapidly returning.

"Ock targe nat, Harlan." The girl said sitting up carefully.

The boy smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. They exchanged a few more words softly as I brought them each a bowl of soup. The boy was still wary of me and kept his eyes on me as I brought the soup over.

I was glad they were getting better, even if I couldn't understand what they were saying to each other. The language barrier was going to be a problem, but worst case scenario we could work out a sign language between us. Most communication happens nonverbally anyway, right?

They didn't touch it until they say I had eaten the stew. It seemed a bit paranoid, but I let them eat in peace. Eventually the boy finished eating. He put the bowls back and got them both a bit of water before I could help. The girl drank greedily, a bit dribbling down her chin. The boy just sipped his.

This was probably as good a chance as any to start communications. I walked over to them, keeping the boy between me and the girl I was starting to suspect was his sister. I stopped short of their beds.

"Alex," I said while pointing at myself. "My name is Alex." I pointed at them. "What is yours?"

They looked at me with blank stares, so I repeated my introduction.

"Alex. Al-ex." I said pointing at myself then them expectantly. Either the girl figured it out first, or she was less wary of me now that I'd helped them.

"Ock Cerlina nat,"She said then pointed at the boy. "Hent gin haden Harlan nit."

'Captain we have established communications.'

'Excellent Ensign, keep them talking we need to learn about this strange new world.'

'Of course sir, and you should probably stop talking to yourself and focus on the situation in front of you.'

"Alex. Sirline-a. Harlen." I said pointing to each of us in turn with a grin. I felt a bit of snot starting to slide out my nose and sniffled to keep it in. Now wasn't the time to let a little thing like the flu interfere with interdimensional/interplanar/inter-whatever-the- fuck-happened-to-me relations.

"Cerlina." The girl said gently correcting my pronunciation. "Arlex."

"Alex."

"A-lex." She said slowly, testing out the name.

The boy stared at me with a frown. He muttered something to Cerlina. She frowned unhappily and started talking to quickly for me to follow. There were lots of h-sounds and, even talking normally, their language seemed to favor sounds made from the diaphragm. I can't imagine what having a cold or the flu did for their ability to talk.

Any hope for further discussion died when the girl started coughing violently. She hunched over as the coughs wracked her small body. The boy, Harlen, ran a hand along her back, glaring at me. I didn't need words to know what he was thinking. Rather than push my luck today, I went back to my bed. There was still much to consider.

I snot dripped down my nose and I wiped it away as I walked back to my cot. Seriously, fuck the flu. So what if it was the smallpox of the unintended Columbian Exchange going on between me and the locals. Although, the existence of western style castles suggested the locals kept livestock like sheep, horses, cows, and chickens. Right?

At least, I thought the castle I found myself in wouldn't be out of place in western Europe, but who knows. I wasn't a history major. I had an actual job, such as it was, before finding myself wherever here was.

Wherever here was…

'I still don't know where I am. Odds are I'm really not on Earth anymore. I know I joked to myself about Isekaitis, but if it is real… The odds are impossible, but... Never again will I see me family. Never again will I enjoy fishing with my Dad and brother. I'll never cook in the kitchen with my Mom. There won't be any new family camping trips and hikes. I've separated by space and time from my friends who I'd served alongside for years. Everyone and everything has been erased. I am dead to them and they are dead to me. Will they find a body? Am J just a cloned copy and the real me is still very much alive or is there nothing left, leaving it forever in question what happened to me?'

I felt tears start welling up in my eyes. I stopped in front of my cot. I sniffled because of the flu, not because of the loneliness I was feeling. I glanced back and saw Harlen comforting Cerlina as she stopped coughing. 'Got to remember their names.'

'I just need some fresh air.' I left the cot behind and took a step outside. In complete disregard of my feeling, the sun was shining, birds were croaking, tweeting, and cawing, and there wasn't a cloud in sight.

I closed what was left of the door behind me and leaned against the stonework. The sky was blue, just like Earth, but this wasn't Earth. I was in some other world. A world I had unleashed a plague upon. I looked at the bodies still littering the courtyard. Birds were starting to pick at their bloated forms.

'Something really needs to be done about those.' The thought of touching the bodies made me sick, but it would be something to keep me busy and my mind occupied. "Best get to it before I unleash another storm of disease."

I went to the base of Iron Tower, the second one I explored so named for the ingots in the basement, and gather up several loads of the chopped word. I laid the wood out in a few side-by-side rows roughly six feet by six feet and then filled in a bunch of the space between the logs with charcoal. All of this was on the hard packed ground of the courtyard so I didn't think the fire would spread.

With the mass pyre set up, I started hauling bodies. It was disgusting work, and I was glad the congestion from the flu dulled the smell a bit. After some of the bodies were piled on the pyre I took a break.

I looked around. There were still many more bodies lying in the courtyard, and I hadn't even touched the ones in the gatehouse.

"Jesus, how many people died. The flu shouldn't have a ninety percent kill rate. So where is everyone." I said to myself.

"Well Alex, you haven't gotten into the castle. Though no one has come out either, so maybe they are just in siege mode or everyone there died too. Of course the gate is open, so everyone that could flee already probably did." I replied, thinking it over aloud.

"So why did Harlen and Cerlina get left behind? Was it because they were already sick?"

I wiped my hands against the ground as I stood up. "Either way, it's time to burn the dead. Do I try to get coal from the forge, or go back into the…" I paused to come up with a name. "Let's call it the Barracks Tower to start the pyre fire. Hmm."

I decided to get them from Barracks Tower because I knew it was hot versus the forge which might have died over the past day or so. Harlen stared at me with a confused look as I gathered some coals from the fire and took them outside. He must have been watching me from the door because once I started the fire he came rushing out, yelling at me. "Quient knoyt kilkin rert? Uj joolk. Joolk!"

He tried to rush the still igniting pyre. I caught him and pushed him back. "Woah. Firstly I don't understand you. Secondly if we don't dispose of the bodies it is only going to make our current disease problem worse." Harlen struggled against my grip, trying to get to the bodies as flames started to lick at the corpses. Soon the flames spread and everything was aflame. Harlen stopped struggling as hard and I pushed him back.

I kept a tight grip on his shoulder. He tried to throw me off and growled. "Jont knoyt greln toyt crontsha?

I really wish I knew what he was saying. He repeated it, pointing at the bodies.

"Look kid, I don't know what you are saying. If you are angry about me burning the bodies, too bad. It had to be done. If your folks are on the pyre we can pray for their ashes later." I said, knowing he couldn't understand a word.

Halren glared at me, but stopped his talking. I started coughing, and he twisted free of my grip. He didn't rush the pyre this time. Instead he stared at it for a long moment, muttered something under his breath, and stomped back to the tower.

'Well that could have gone better. Wonder why he reacted like that? Is burning the dead a big no-no in this country, land, continent, planet, and or universal plane?' I wondered as I watched the fire burn. I took a moment to bow my head and say a quick prayer over the dead. I didn't know if it would do them any good, but it couldn't hurt, right?

The fire raged and I stood watching, making sure it kept to the pyre. Fortunately the ground was hard packed dirt, and, now that I was taking a moment to really look at it, some rock too. Unfortunately, this left me without much to do and my mind could wander back to the very things that brought me out here.

This was mostly likely not the planet where I was born. I was alone in this world. No family, no friends, no enemies, no one I hadn't seen in years. Completely and totally alone.

…

…

…

In that case…

Well suppose I wanted to bring everything I could from Earth to this world. Where would I even start? What was the state of the world? What kinds of, if any, magic do they have. What is the current geopolitical situation?

Rather than dwell too long on my fate, I kept my mind busy with a game of what if about the new world and what I might be able to do.

I kept my body busy tending to the pyre. Several times I fetched fresh wood and more bodies to add to it. By the end of the day, the courtyard was clear. The towers were clear. The gatehouse was clear. Harlen had come out to watch me a few times. He didn't help, but he didn't try to stop me again.

I was sore and tired, but when I tried to return to the tower Harlen stopped me.

After several minutes spent arguing in different languages it became clear he wasn't going to let me in. I could have moved him by force, but then what?

I left them alone to keep the peace for now.. I took the axe from where I'd left it leaning against the tower and headed towards to the blacksmith's forge.

I didn't know what his problem was. 'Maybe burning is taboo here and they are supposed to 'bury' the dead some other way.'

As I mosied to the blacksmith's forge I caught sight of the keep doors and paused.

'Despite the scent of roasting bodies and Harlen's little tantrum, no one came out of the keep today. The door looked like it had been sealed, but no one has even shouted at me, shot at me from the keep, nor I haven't seen anyone.' I didn't want to jump the gun, but I was pretty sure the keep was as dead as anywhere else at this point.

If I can't stay in the Barracks tower tonight there is no reason I can't just take the lords chambers, provided no rotting corpses waiting on the bed of course.'

I had tried to door once before, but I tried it again anyway. Surprise Surprise, it hadn't changed. 'Well, it isn't like I can go home and spend time on the internet,' I thought as I lift the axe. I coughed, spat out a fat loogie, and started on the door.

The sun was nearly set when I finally broke through. I made my way through the vestibule into the main hall. The interior doors opened easily. What I saw in the main hall turned my stomach and send me stumbling out into the yard.

I must have made a lot of noise vomiting and dry heaving. Once I finally stopped I looked up to see Harlen and Cerlina staring at me.

"What?"

Harlen and Cerlina looked passed me to the ruined keep door. "Knoyt myhon rert?" Cerlina muttered.

"Huh," I asked, standing shakily. She looked between my sick on the ground and me. "Oh, that. Don't worry. You should probably go back though. Both of you. You don't want to see this."

Harlen, still in a no talking mood, brushed passed me towards the keep. I through out a hand to stop him. "Woah Harlen. You really don't want to do in there."

"Harlan. Harlan gin dreck nit, jat gon go oeln." He said shaking my hand off. He hurried in before I could stop him. I turned back to Cerlina.

"Go back. Isn't it bedtime or something for you," I said, waving towards the Barracks tower. Cerlina frowned, but before she could say anything Harlan (Because that is going to be easy to remember after having it wrong in my head already) came stumbling out and left his dinner behind next to what had been in my stomach.

"A Herjawstargekin eh," He muttered wiping his mouth.

"Yeah, not a pretty sight is it," I said. "But now that you've seen it two you can help me clean it up. If you don't like the burning," I pointed at him, the fire, gave thumbs down and an exaggerated frowny face, "then you can lead disposal." I jabbed him in the chest then pointed at the keep.

Harlan screwed his face up for a few seconds, then glared at the ash pile. "A kanhenoi haw crontshakin. Teyt to a wohent jat a Herjawstarge ahje." He said, making a disgusted face as he pointed at the fire and then pointing out beyond the walls. He then spoke to Cerlina

"Fjert ih a baejhon ahje, yarsha." Cerlina sighed, babbled something I didn't catch, and sulked back to the Barracks Tower. Harlan looked at me and the door.

I swallowed, nodded, and together we returned to the hall of horrors.

Inside the main hall everyone was sat at the tables, but they were all dead. Old, young, man, or woman, it made no difference. The only one not like that was a man is a roughspun shirt that hung long on his body wearing a headpiece made of driftwood, seaweed, and fishbones. He was beside a barrel of water, were he'd collapse, dried snot and vomit on his front. In the barrel was a babe, the strangely dressed man's hand holding it down. The bodies at the tables were bloated, purple and black. The men and boys were armed and armored, their helms sitting before them. The women dressed in ruined dresses.

"Alright, how do we do this?" I asked after a moment to compose myself.

Harlan looked around, muttered something that sounded like a prayer and approached the first body. He started to lift it, but stumbled under the weight of the man in mismatched plate. I went over and helped him.

As we pulled out the first body, the sun fell below the walls, plunging the keep into darkness. Harlan didn't stop though. Together we carried the body out of the castle and to the edge of the cliff it was built upon. Harlan said a few words in prayer then started to throw the body over. Fully armored.

'For real dude? Is armor that common in this part of the world' I thought, but I didn't say anything. We were getting along at the moment and there was no way I was sleeping in the keep tonight.

Harlan glanced at me as he struggled with the body. I pitched in and we pitched it over the edge of the cliff. I hope we tossed it far enough out that it didn't just hit the cliff base and get stuck somewhere partway down, but we were on the east side of the island and everything below the precipice was already lost to darkness.

With that task completed we returned to the castle. I spared a glance down the path towards the town, I saw no light and tried not to think about what they meant. Surely someone down there survived. We walked back to the Barracks Tower.

I paused at the door, but Harlan seemed resigned to being stuck with me going forward and didn't say anything when I followed a second later. Sure he was a decade younger than me at least, but anyone can kill you in your sleep. Anyone. A quick dinner, refresh of the fire and I was off to sleep. I expected tomorrow would be even worse than today.

XxX


	5. Chapter 4:Oh That's Where

**Notice, I messed up. If you read this before this chapter posted go back and read the last chapter. Messed up when uploading chapters and didn't double check before posting. My apologies.**

**Chapter 4: Oh, That's Where. **

Day 6

We took two days to finish clearing the grounds, the towers, and lower levels of the castle of bodies. During that time I worked on building some level of communication between me, Harlan, and Cerlina. It wasn't perfect, but phrases like yes, no, help, and come help me you little shit were all a part of it so far. That last one may be a bit of embellishment on my part about one of the corpses spat water all over me when I tried to move it alone.

I still wanted to burn them, but I also wanted to not be stabbed in my sleep. In the end, survival won out and we kept tossing bodies over the cliff. I figured it would be too much of a problem. The armor and clothes would weigh them down and fish might eat the bodies. If they did wash back onto the island, hopefully, seagulls would take care of them.

Before each toss, Harlan or Cerlina said a prayer to the Herjawstarge. I still seemed weird to toss them with so much gear on, but Harlan was insistent they needed to keep it.

He got mad when I tried to save it at least and started talking angrily at least.

Either way, the castle was now clean of corpses. All the bodies in the keep were in that macabre main hall. Everyone held up in the keep seemingly took part in the ritualistic murder-suicide to Herjawstarge, the god the kids and I assume the whole island, worship. All I know is it seemed right fucked up. Sure Christianity has its flagellants who I think started in response to a plague, but this was some Mossad level stuff without an enemy at the gates.

Either way, I was finally making my way to the upper floors of the castle. As I climbed I was starting to wonder what happened to the pair's parents._ 'Were they part of the people I burned, part of the ones we just tossed, did they make it out of the keep, or were Harlan and Celina orphans before all this started? They haven't reacted too strongly to anything yet, except burning the bodies, but since they seem to be sea focused pagans that might be understandable.' _

I shook the thoughts from my head and continued making my way through the castle. I had already worked through all the lower levels with the cistern, the vaults, the dungeon, and the internal armory spaces. The main floor held the main hall, kitchen, larders, and servants quarters. The second was split between relatively simple bedrooms. I wasn't sure but I thought they might be for guests since they didn't look exceedingly furbished, just basic rooms.

Today I going to start searching the third floor. In particular, I was looking for the solar or office of the noble that lived here.

There were only two doors on this floor. One on either side of the hallway. This filled me with hope. Large rooms should belong to the ruler right?

The first was locked. I saw the keyhole and kicked myself. '_We threw the lord into the sea first thing yesterday morning. Well, I assume he was the lord. He was at the center of the high table. What do you want to bet he had the keys on him? Well do I try the other door first or do we think the sealed room is the winner?'_

A part of me wished for lock picking tools. Fortunately, I still had my ax. One exhausting period of chopping later and I am in the room. There was a desk, a few simple chairs, and a fireplace with naught but ashes. Light streamed in through slit windows. There was a green tapestry with what looked almost like black tombstones on the back wall. I entered the room and looked around.

My eyes fell on a map adorning the wall. I felt my heart drop to my feet. "Fuck. I won option D. I am totally fucked." I muttered as I took in the map of Westeros. It was different from most of the ones I was used to. It gave way more attention to the Iron Isles. While I thought there were only seven or eight, the map was reminding me those were just the big ones. Like the Bahamas or maybe Micronesia there seemed to be hundreds of little dots on the map around the big islands.

Coats of arms were there as well for major Houses. I saw the Stark direwolf, the Lannister Lion, The Tyrrel Rose. Over King's Landing the Targaryen Dragon was painted, but did that mean I was before the Rebellion or that the owner of the castle didn't update their map.

'_So where am I?' _I wondered. The tapestry was probably in the same style as the lord's coat of arms so I looked for it on the map. I started in the North, moving along its coastline. '_Not Skagos.'_

I continued downward, moving through the Fingers and along the Vale. '_No not there or anywhere in the Riverlands.'_

I was getting a sinking feeling in my gut. The way the map treated them gave me my first hint, and the way Harlan wanted to bury the dead added to my anxiety. I followed through the Stormlands, around Dorne, up the West Coast to the Iron Isle. There, on the northernmost of the big islands was a coat of green with black… they looked like tombstones to me or maybe houses on a hill.

"Iron Isles," I said after a moment. "Okay, so I'm with the knockoff Vikings. That means Herjawstarge is the fucking Drowned God. Does that mean I am supposed to be his champion? I am pretty sure I drowned on my way here? Does that make me Immortal? What has drowned can never die right?"

I thought about the scene we saw in the main hall. The Drowned Priest was holding a baby's head in the water after everyone else was already dead or had been killed by him or suicided. "Yeah, that can go fuck itself with a suppository pineapple grenade."

I started looking over the documents on the table. I don't understand any of the writing. The text, the numbers, all of it is as foreign to me deodorant at a comic con.

'_Okay, so I am going to need to find someone literate and have them teach me the local alphabet and number system. In the meantime, let's see if I can make a list.'_

I rooted around until I found some blank parchment. Writing with a quill wasn't easy, but I managed after a few practice runs with the already used parchment on the desk. It wasn't like anyone else was going to need to read those going forward.

The timeline was the first thing to go on the parchment. Rather, a list of possible time points I could have entered near. I didn't leave any possibility out

Long Night

Andal Invasion

Ironborn conquest of the Rivers and Hills

Doom

Conquest

Maegor the Cruel

The Dance

The Blackfyre Rebellions, pick one.

Summerhall

Ninepenny War

Robert's Rebellion

Greyjoy Rebellion

War of Five Kings

War of Dawn

After all that shit.

I left plenty of space between the different ones. I crossed out everything before the Aegon's Conquest. If King's Landing was there, chances were it was well after that. A bit of Genre savviness had me leaning toward the later time points. Once I had that I started listing people I thought were around in the given timelines. Factions, turning points, anything I could think of. Then I set a timeline to the return of the Others. That was the big ticket item depending on when I was.

'_Of course, you might die tomorrow, but anywhere from 250ish on and there is a not impossible chance I might be an old man when they return. On the other hand, if I am closer there is less time to prepare.'_

Uplift was the answer, but the question was how. I didn't know the exact details of a lot of stuff. Gunpowder, sure I had a basic formula, but that wasn't SAWs and AK-47 in a few months. It was matchlocks in a decade at best, maybe cannons in five years.

Besser Steel? Aluminum? Solid Rocket fuel? Gasoline? Solar Panels? Agricultural equipment? Good luck. I understood the concepts. I could do some of the work. Hopefully, some of the math skills and equations would come back to me over time.

As I was trying to write everything down Harlan stumbled in. "Lunch Now Eat?" He said, well that was the basis of it. Figuring out that they put verbs at the end of the sentence had been taken a bit longer than it should have.

"Yes. I follow in moment." I replied in our pidgin. '_But I don't have to do it all, do I? I just have to start the wheel's turning in someone else's head. People are smart. S.M.R.T they just need someone to put the thought in their head, provide the support structure and raw materials needed. I don't need to turn iron to steel. I just need to reforge the Iron Born.' _I thought, a smile drawing across my features. That would be perfect. They will be born of iron, but I will forge them into steel.

Harlan looked back over his shoulder. I guess my smile creeped him out because he hurried away. That was okay.

I went down and joined him and Cerlina for lunch. There had been fresher stocks of food in the keep's cellars to supplement what I found before. Since they were more prone to spoilage we ate lavishly from the keeps stores. We hadn't had time to make bread so I couldn't make a sandwich, but the flour, butter, poultry, vegetables, and cheese combined interestingly to make a good pot pie type of meal.

"Where are your parents?" I finally asked as we relaxed in the afterglow of a good meal.

It took a few minutes, but Cerlina finally found the words to explain it with the help of hand motions and using some of the utensils to make visual aids. "Father is a sailor. Mother is dead before all this. What about you? Where did you come from?"

I tried to explain that I was from another world, brought here by some kind of magic, but our communications hadn't developed to that level yet. I think I just left them more confused.

"Far from here." I finally settled on. After lunch, I went back up to the lord's solar. I think that was the right term. I went back there and kept up on my list. Being left-handed was making this even harder as I dealt with smeared writing and an inked up hand. It took perhaps an hour before I got to a point where I was comfortable I had written down everything I could think of about the world I had found myself in.

"Well, I guess I don't have to worry about Chaos at the least," I muttered as I put the scroll in a drawer I had emptied for my own writing. "Now to finish my exploration. If this is Westeros shouldn't there be a maester somewhere around here?"

It was possible this keep didn't have one. The existence of the painted map on the wall suggested it did. The painted map made wouldn't be easy or cheap to produce, and the knowledge needed to fill it in wasn't inconsiderable.

It wasn't that the Iron Isle was filled with idiots. A hard, tough, uncaring, crude people sure, but they were skilled sailors, could work the sea for a bounty, and were decent enough warriors to keep the lifestyle alive. They were hardy, but the knowledge needed for that style map was not their style. Thus a maester.

I took off searching again. Maester's were learned men of noble birth or at the least wealthy enough to pay for their education. I expected any castle with a maester would be expected to house him in the keep with the ruling family. I hadn't stumbled upon a room for one yet, but there were still other parts of the castle to go through. The first room I checked after the Solar was the one opposite it.

It turned out to be the Lord's bedchamber. AKA my new room. It was in decent condition. The bed wasn't ruined and there weren't any bodies. I checked out the bed. It was far better than what I'd been sleeping on thus far. There was a basic mirror on the wall, a large wardrobe and a stand with a basin and a chamber pot on the bottom, thankfully empty.

The mirror gave me my first good look at myself in a while. My beard was coming in. Bits of grey here and there a gentle reminder I wasn't in my early twenties anymore. I looked tired and haggard more than anything. My clothes were looking rumpled. '_I have been wearing the same clothes pretty much nonstop for the last week.'_

That thought gave me pause. After a quick sniff, I shut the door, stripped out of my old clothes, enjoying the relief from the infuriatingly slowly fading chafing that I'd been making an effort to ignore, and raided the lord's wardrobe for clothing.

It took longer than I will ever admit to figure out what the heck the different clothing was. Tunics, surcoats, doublets, hose, breeches, undergarments, what are those? Where were the Haynes, jeans, and t-shirts? A bit of an exaggeration? Sure. I knew I wasn't going to find those. Didn't make it any easier.

I won't say I was the same size as the lord of this castle, but I was able to cobble together something that fit well enough and was cleaner than what I had been wearing. Hopefully, I could find some soap and would be able to clean my clothes tonight. '_Maybe Cerlina will know where I can get some soap and clothes cleaning tools.'_

Now wearing a clean set of clothing I slipped my ax in my belt and went looking for the maester again. On the fourth level, I found the ladies dressing room, a few nicer bedrooms. '_The children's rooms?'_

The fifth floor was given over to the bathroom with a couple of large wooden tubs, but no maester. There was also soap, towels, brushes, and all other kinds of cleaning tools.

'_Going to use that later,' _I thought, looking at the tubs. There was some soap in the room, towels, and buckets. '_Probably going to be cold and a ton of work, but so worth it.'_

'_Honestly, having the bathing room on the fifth floor seems like some super petty bullshit. Are there going to be water tanks on the roof of something for it? Otherwise why?' _

That was a goal for later though. Instead, I continued up to the sixth and final level only to be stopped by a sealed door once more. '_This really is becoming a trend in this world. Well when the world closes a door, axes work to open them.'_

With my trusty companion, El Señor Axo, I set to work on another of the doors in this castle. "You know," I grumbled to myself, "This is just another thing I am going to have to fix in the long run when I take over this castle."

I only got about three swings in before someone banged back on the door. "Joolk! Joolk," they cried out. I stopped as they'd asked. That was one word Harlan had been quick to teach me while we were working together.

"Hono!" I called through the door.

"Hono! Ter vjanno nit? Ock bjent vjied nib droyntjan." The voice said.

This took a second longer to pick through. '_Alright, he is saying hello. Asking who, and then something about himself. Maybe that he is the only one left? Or that there are others with him? Ock is 'I' but I don't understand the rest of that.' _

"Hono?" The voice asked timidly as time dragged on.

"Ock bjoyt," I said. The silence stretched on for another second before I gave up on my weak grasp for the Iron tongue as I was calling it for now. "Can you please open the door?"

It never hurts to be polite. You can always be an asshole later, but it costs nothing to start off polite.

There was silence for a moment.

And another.

"Quient?" The probably maester said.

"I said, can you please open the door?"

Silence again. Then there was a lot of rapid talking. I didn't catch a lick of it. There was a sliding sound, a jingle, a bit of stiff metal turning and I had to step back to avoid the door as it swung out. Standing in the portal was a grey robed man with a very gaunt face. A chain hung loosely around his neck. This was definitely the maester.

He squinted as he looked at me. "Ter knoyt kil hawst zanhan."

"I imagine not," I said.

The maester took a stumbling step forward then collapsed. I rushed up and caught him as he started to fall. I looked past the door and saw the whole floor seemed to be given over to the maester and his needs. I saw bookshelves, a small apartment, tables, a chalkboard, a large window, a bunch of empty cages and a rather large pile of discarded feathers and bones.

"How long have you been locked up here?" I asked as I cradled him. His answer was mumbled and I couldn't make it out.

"Harlan. Help me!" I called out hoping he might hear me. No steps came running so I guessed he hadn't.

"Can you walk?" I asked the maester using my finger to simulate walking. "Walk."

"Ter pow." The maester said, struggling to his feet. Slowly, just a few steps at a time we got the maester done to the main hall. He kept asking questions. I kept telling him later.

The whole time we walked descended through the keep I was wondering why he did come and talk to us sooner. I hadn't exactly been quiet so far, and burning the bodies should have been noticed by him. Hopefully, he could answer those questions once I got some food in him and found Harlan

Once he was seated at a table I went and got water, and some of the leftover pot pie for him to eat.

He drank the water quickly and basically inhaled the pot pie.

"Mewr," he croaked once that was all gone. "Mewr," He repeated pointing at the plate and miming eating.

I raised an eyebrow. '_How long was he in that room. Unless he was already really skinny those birds should have fed him for a while.' _

It wasn't worth questioning at the moment. I got him another serving, but I was going to cut him off after that. When I returned I found Harlan and Cerlina in the room talking with him. They looked up at me as I came in. I placed the food down before the maester.

"Good, can you talk to him for me, and me for him?" I asked Harlan in our pidgin making good use hand signals.

"Yes."

"Cool, then let's talk."


	6. Chapter 5:What Year is it?

**Chapter 5: What year is it?**

Day 14

The Maester's name was Albar. He was born and raised in Gulltown until he went to the Citadel. Maester Albar was very talkative once we got some food into him, and provided a quick overview of what had happened and why he stayed locked away.

I'd apparently woken up close to a week after I was found on a beach. The deaths started just a couple days later. Panic set in. Some fled, others tried to keep it contained on his suggestion. In the end, the Jaewrstargekin argued it was punishment brought by the Herjawstargekin and the only way to make him happy was to kill themselves by drowning and prepare their hall to be his.

Maester Albar didn't want to die and locked himself away to prevent that, but he didn't know what would happen to him if he left his tower and was waiting for someone to find him before risking leaving. He didn't come out when he saw me burning to bodies because he didn't know who I was or if there were others with me. Likewise, he waited until I was at his door because he didn't want to be killed by raiders. If that is what I turned out to be. At least, that is what he said.

Personally, I was starting to think he might just be a bit of a coward. Regardless it was another person to add to my party and someone that could teach me how to read and write the local scripts, help with learning the local language and get started on my plan to improve the Ironborn by teaching Harlan and Cerlina.

Over the next week, Harlan, Cerlina, Maester Albar, and I got to a conversational level with our pidgin, though more and more I was just picking up the local language.

When we weren't having lessons with Maester Albar, repairing damage to the castle and the gates as best we were able or taking an inventory, we needed to eat.

Somehow I wound up being our primary cook. Not that I'm complaining, just questioning the wisdom of letting the sick man cook. Regardless, they liked what I cooked so I was happy to do it. As everyone else got good food into them they seemed to recover from the effects of the flu. On the other hand, I was recovering much more slowly. My chafing was finally gone, but it took so long I was worried. It was supposed to disappear after a few days. This time it took the better part of two weeks.

My flu symptoms had only just started improving. It was worrying. Why should I react differently to the disease I brought with me versus the locals that seemed to get over it as quickly as I thought I would.

Regardless of our health, or lack of it, we spent a lot of time talking.

Well okay, it was also a lot of hand waving, charades and guesswork, but it is fair to call it conversation.

Regardless of the semantics, one of the common conversation topics that came up was each other. Cerlina was happy to talk about herself, in the way a child can. Harlan was less vocal but could be coaxed into sharing. Maester Albar tight-lipped about himself, preferring to turn any question back on me, getting a straight answer from him was always a challenge.

They learned I'm from far far away, I'm a soldier, though I am not sure they fully understood that bit, and other bits and pieces.

I learned Harlan is twelve name-days old and Cerlina is just half that at six. Maester Albar said he had stopped counting but was older than my own twenty-seven years.

I wasn't completely sure, but I think the kids were the children of a ship captain sworn to house Archenheckon and a salt wife. The father was away, probably reaving, and the mother had died a few years ago.

At least that's I what I understood when we got to the conversation. Father a sailor, mother from far far away too but dead before I arrived.

Other things we talked about were the talents, skills, and hobbies we all had.

Cerlina liked to play with her friends, all dead now, watch the smiths work, also all dead, or listen to the nanny's stories. The nanny was also gone, but Cerlina could be convinced to share the stories easily enough.

Surprisingly, Harlan knew a bit about cooking and proved a big help in the kitchen. He'd been on a few short voyages to other islands around Achenheckon, Blacktyde, with his father. On those, he'd been given various duties which included helping the ship's cook so he at least knew something. It made a good opportunity for him to teach me more words. I was pretty sure I could walk into any kitchen on the Iron Isles and fit right in at this point.

'_Does that make me an Iron Chef?'_

The lessons with Maester Albar were interesting. His lessons for Harlan and Cerlina were continuations of they were previously being taught, lending more credence to my belief their father was of import at the local court. The only change was my insistence they learn more than just the very basics.

My lessons, on the other hand, were more dynamic. Well, the language and writing lessons weren't. Harlan was way ahead of me there and Cerlina was learning it better than I was. I just got tacked on to what they were doing.

Math, on the other-other hand, that was proving fun. Turns out, it really is the universal language. Maester Albar was good at math. I wasn't sure if he had a link for it, but if he didn't then he had one for something that used it a lot.

Math really was great for helping us understand more complex things and topics. Numbers, populations, time.

Time was one of the big ones I wanted to work out. Fortunately, we were able to communicate well enough to start it today. We started with seconds, minutes, and hours, all the ways a single day could be broken down. Explaining a clock to them took a bit of time. After I drew a picture of an analog clock, Master Albar jumped up, rummaged around his personal desk and came over with something in his hands.

That something was a watch. My watch. I'd forgotten I was wearing it in the crash. He explained it confused the men who found me and he had taken it to study, but the plague had stopped him.

I held it in my hands and read the inscription on the back. The watch was a gift from my parents. The words engraved on the back now the last message I would ever have from them. I felt like I was getting punched in the gut, and despite my best efforts to keep it together tears pooled in my eyes.

Maester Albar called an end to the lesson, I guess he knew I needed a moment. I left the keep and went out and stood on the edge of the cliff outside the castle gates. The watch was a familiar weight on my wrist. It was dead. The seawater had seen to that. The hands permanently stuck at the moment of my death.

Harlan approached me there.

"Alex, what happened? Are you unwell?" He asked after a fashion. I think it was the first time he had shown genuine concern for me. Maybe he was just afraid I would be able to make dinner.

I laid a hand on the watch. "I am fine, Harlan. I just needed a minute."

"Minute, sixty seconds, right? Count by one Achenheckon, two Achenheckon, yes? Has been longer I think." He said. I glared back at him, but he didn't back down.

"What do you want, Harlan?"

"Why did wartsch upset you? It is just a yoltirge." Harlan said wrapping a finger and his thumb around his wrist.

"A what?"

"Yoltirge, yoltirge. Metal wrist thing. Women wear if it pretty. Men wear if grenoyt and need good way to carry it." Harlan said.

'_A bracelet maybe, but then what is grenoyt.'_ I wondered. '_He isn't entirely wrong, but he is.'_

"A watch isn't a yoltirge. It tells time. Like we talked about today." I said and retaught the concept of a watch. He looked a bit confused but nodded along.

"And this made you sad."

"It wasn't the watch, it was the message on it. It was the last link to my father and mother. It was a reminder I will never see them ever again." I said showing him the message on the back. He couldn't read it of course, but his eye scanned it anyway.

"What does it say?"

"It is a message of encouragement and love."

"Good message?"

"A very good one."

We stood there for a moment, looking out at the waves and the horizon. Harlan finally broke the silence.

"My mother is dead, but my father was sailing when the sickness hit. Do you think he is still out there? Do you think he will return?" He asked, staring off into the distance. "Cerlina is worried." He added, deliberately not meeting my questioning glance.

"Maybe," I said. "You can only hope, pray, and have faith in him."

Harlan grunted. Eventually, I turned away and went back to the keep. Tomorrow would be another day.

XxX

Day 15

I woke up, picked out some basic trousers and a shirt, went down to the courtyard and started working out. It hurt. It was messy as snot flew, and, overall, I sucked. A week bedridden unconscious and a week not really working out after that had taken a toll on me.

Still, iron ingots made for basic dumbbells and bodyweight exercises can be a plenty good workout in lieu of a properly furnished gym. Afterward, I went up to the floor with the bathing tubs, took advantage of the ingenious plumbing system that gathered rainwater on the roof so it could be piped to the tubs and then drained through the castle to the privy on the main floor before flushing it all out to the sea.

It was Maester Albar's predecessor's work and I was eternally grateful for it. Until the water slowed to a trickle with only an inch in the tub. '_Fuck. I guess it hasn't rained recently and daily bathing takes a toll on the supply.'_

I finished bathing the best I could and made breakfast. As we ate a storm cropped up. It quickly plunged the castle into near darkness. Rain poured down in sheets and lightning lit up the sky in awe-inspiring bolts that reached from heaven to sea. If we weren't busy watching the storm we were in the kitchen were the fire provided light and I made a day of teaching how to make cookies. Well of a sort. The lack of some ingredients led to an interesting result.

"Alright, we agree to never speak of this again?" I said after spitting out the unspeakable thing.

"Yes!" They universally agreed.

The next day, Day 16, I ran into Harlan as I was heading to the walls to run laps. He invited himself along as I tried to explain what I was doing. After two laps I guess he got bored because he ran ahead. By lap five I was wheezing as he lapped me. I stopped at the unofficial start/finish point just outside of Barracks Tower. I leaned against the wall and sucked down air until Harlan got back around.

Harlan stopped next to me, looking like he was just warming up. "So running done? Now we fight, yes? Can't always run away."

I wheezed, slowly forcing myself to stand up. "Not about running away. It's about stamina. The ability to keep going and going and going and going and going…" A smirk grew on my face as I kept repeating the energizer bunny tag line.

"I get it. Keep going. You not very good at that. Still vinyetch?" He said acting like he was swinging a sword.

I wasn't looking forward to getting beat by a twelve-year-old and, if something miraculous happened, beating up a twelve-year-old didn't sound great either, but he was eager so why not?

"Fine, let's get some training weapons," I said.

A bit later, we stood in the muddy courtyard, on the most solid bit of ground we could find, facing each other. Harlan had a short training sword. I had taken an ax. Swords are cool and all, but from what I understood not the best against heavily armored troops.

An ax wasn't perfect either, but after carrying El Senor Axo around it felt comfortable.

"Alright, how do you want to do this?" I asked. Harlan looked at me a bit confused.

"What do you mean? Aren't you a warrior?" He asked

He wasn't wrong per se. I told them I was a soldier, but explaining the role of bomber aircrew in putting warheads on foreheads from thirty thousand feet wasn't that translating well.

"Not this kind. Fight from very far away." I reminded him. Harlan frowned and thought about it for a second."

"Then no vinyetchkin?" He asked.

"No, we can still vinyetchkin. You have been taught how to use that, right?" I asked pointing at the sword. He nodded. "And this?" He nodded again. "Then teach me what you know."

Harlan furrowed his brow as he thought hard about it. I was worried I was losing some respect from him, especially after our moment on the cliff two days before. Yes, I was worried about a preteen's opinion, but this was a preteen my best connections to the locals once we finally left the castle.

He also had a sword and at least kinda sorta knew how to use it. I would rather he not demonstrate too vigorously on me with a real weapon.

My thoughts were interrupted when Harlan spoke and I had to ask him to repeat himself.

"Yes. I will teach you, but you teach me something later." He said.

"Agreed," I said. '_That should work out perfectly.' _

By the time we finally finished up I was bruised and Harlan was grinning.

After bathing, ensuring Harlan did the same, and making breakfast we were back at language arts lessons. We broke for a quick lunch, my attempts at bread getting better as I figured out how to do the right amount of yeast, via pouring a bit of beer in the batter, so I tried a stab at sandwiches for everyone.

They were confused for a second before following my lead in eating it all. My earlier attempts at bread had been not so tasty, but the local trio was fine with using them as soup bowls. This bread was the first moderately soft one I had managed.

After lunch, it was more lessons today, again math. We did a quick review of the previous discussion on time and moved into how longer periods were broken up. Days, months, seasons, years.

Seasons were an interesting discussion. Communicating the basic nature of each one was a bit hard. Autumn is the harvest time, right? What about when summer lasts years? Not so much then is it. Still, we worked around it. I didn't even try telling them about three month seasons on a regular schedule. I knew Westeros wasn't like that.

At least Maester Albar had confirmed it was Summer, though it had been for a while now and he expected it would be Autumn soon. Then we started discussing how a year was defined. I figured three-hundred sixty-five days, plus an extra every few years.

The Westerosi calendar was a bit different. It was close to the same number of days based on constellations, I think, but was divided based something like a lunar cycle since they couldn't rely on the seasons. Albar talked a lot about how it was done, going over my head a bit more than he likely intended. Do have to admire his love of astronomy though. He ran off at one point and came back pulling out charts and drawing all kinds of things on the blackboard.

Then it came time for the big question I'd been building to. The one that would define everything to come. I knew where I was, but I didn't know when. Was Robert Baratheon alive? Did he sit or ever sit on the throne? Were dragons still a thing or had they gone extinct except for their eggs? Was there an army on its way here or was there time?

"Maester Albar, what year is it right now?"

He paused in his description of the movements of another constellation. "It has been two hundred and fifty since Aegon's Conquest. It is also the seventeenth year of the reign of Aegon Targaryen, fifth of his name." Albar said before launching back into his lecture.

Yeah so funny story, Valyrian and Andal names are almost English, First Men names not so much. Hence Achentheckon, but Targaryen is Targaryen. Arryn is Arryn. Go fucking figure. For anyone wondering Stark is Berheyt. Not important right now.

250AC, though. Before Robert. Before Joffrey. Before Rhaeger, Lyanna, and the Mad King. '_Will any of them even come into existence now? Is my future knowledge worth anything?' _

I did my best to think it over. The older characters should exist, Jon Arryn, Hoster and Branden Tully, Tywin and most of his siblings should be children if they survive this. That meant Steffon Baratheon.

'_Aegon number five is Egg, right? Dunk and Egg? Reforms for the smallfolk, shitty children, burns himself at the palace trying to be a dragon Aegon? I think that is right. What year was Summerhall though? This year or was it later?' _I wracked my brain trying to remember. I was pretty sure it was this year. '_Then the Ninepenny War after. Barristan Selmy makes a name.' _

Then I remembered where I was. '_Fuck! Greyjoys, Quellon was in charge. Balon might be alive, when were the rest of those fuckers born. Is Euron a thing? Is Euron going to survive the plague? If the plague going to reach him? Reach the Reach? The Westlands? Shit is the plague going to kill Tywin or kill his father and leave a Reyne as the regent?'_

The full potential impact of the apparent effects of the flu in this world hit me. With Harlan was fascinated by Maester Albar's discussion of stars, constellations, how they move over time, I tried to slip out unnoticed. Tried being the operative word.

"Did I just become the plague rat? Am I now one of the most unintentionally effective WMDs of all time? Shit, how did I even get here? Was it some kind of magic, Divine action, a mix of both, or a wormhole I was just lucky enough to hit?"

Eventually, I stopped my pacing and noticed Cerlina standing nearby, watching me with a concerned look on her face.

"Yes?"

"What is wrong?" She asked. "What are you talking about? Duhbou Em Dee and all the rest."

I dragged a hand along my face. How to explain this to a child. I thought about it for a minute. I hadn't admitted to being patient zero to them yet. I didn't want to but after all that… Well, there was one card I could play.

"Grown-up stuff. Adult things. Nothing you need to worry about," I tried.

Cerlina frowned but was six years old so she didn't have anything to fire back with.

"What if I ask Maester Albar?"

Drat, undone by an overly talkative teacher, scholar, scribe, and Wiseman all rolled into one. But… He didn't know any more than her, though he could be more persuasive. That sounded like a great future Alex problem

"Go ahead," I said. Cerlina gave me the stink eye but didn't press. Accepting, even just a little bit, that I couldn't change things at this point. The dead were dead, and by damn they are going to stay that way. But accepting that I could change things, I went up to the Lord's Solar and started crossing out the moot items and refining my plans for the world I now found myself in.

"I am going to have to see how bad this hit the town. Between whoever fled and the ritual murder-suicide using the castle's survivors isn't the best survivability numbers." I muttered as I kept writing my plans. "Two days from now I go exploring. At least a scouting trip. Guess that means I need to find some armor that fits."

XxX


	7. Chapter 6:Going Into Town

**Chapter 6: Going Into Town**

Day 21, 14 Seventh Moon 250AC

The next few days were spent getting ready to travel beyond the castle. Two days to be proved a little bit optimistic, it took four. Harlan was excited about it. The gist of what he said was: "It's about damn time." While no Tychus Findlay, he was right. It was time to start exploring. Then I would worry about expand and exploit.

Cerlina was more reserved after initial enthusiasm when I said she would have to stay behind this time. I didn't know what awaited us and I didn't want to have to deal with a six-year-old tagging along. She became more accepting after I suggested to her that leaving Maester Albar alone wouldn't end well for any of us.

Maester Albar himself was initially curious as to why I wanted to go now but didn't press too hard. He was excited for the trip, but also glad to stay behind. He did see fit to give me a shopping list of sorts, though he admitted it might need to be a looting list depending on the state of the town.

The days themselves were spent ensuring I could properly say common phrases, everything on his shopping list, and comport myself as a lord in armor.

Armor.

Yeah, so there was no way in all Seven Hells of the Andal faith, the one hell of my own, and any other hellscapes across the multiverse I was going to go out without some kind of armor.

We spent a day searching through the armory to find myself a set. In the end, the best armor for me was a looted set that fit almost perfectly.

Yeah… So apparently, some Andal k-nig-et fell on the wrong side of an Iron Born, but the armor mostly survived. Greaves, gauntlets, vambraces, breastplate, and backplate would make up my armor for this outing along with an open faced helmet. There was more, rerebraces, faulds, poleyns, and cuisses, but I was forgoing the full set. What I was wearing, with the attendant padding and other undergarments was more than enough. It had to be for me to move.

Not to say I was moving quickly in the partial armor set, but it, an ax, and a small wooden round shield were enough I felt safe and could still move. Harlan and I spent a day practicing in armor. I wanted to get a feel for what it felt like to fight in it, and a part of me was geeking out over getting to wear armor.

The weirdest thing in all of this is that I had no questions about how to put it on and needed no help from Harlan or Maester Albar to figure it out, though Harlan did help me actually put it on. Like Paul Atreides and his stillsuit, I had no problem understanding what went where or when.

That made me curious, but no answer would soon be forthcoming so I chose not to look a gift horse in the mouth. The armor was relatively simple, unadorned except for a seven-point star etched on the inside of each piece of the armor. Hence why I was certain it belonged to an Andalic knight.

Finally, four days later, I was ready to risk venturing beyond the castle walls. With a hammer and shield for Harlan and my trusty ax and a small wooden round shield for me, we set off.

The town was at the base of the hill the castle was built on and served as the primary port for the island and the castle town. Before my arrival, somewhere around three thousand people called the town home with around seven thousand more living in the area around the castle or on small ships which called this place home. How many would great us?

Harlan was pessimistic. "Two hundred."

I was a bit more hopeful. "At least six hundred."

'_Just because almost everyone at the castle died doesn't mean less than one percent of the population survived. For one they were more spread out, for another they weren't right next to patient zero.'_

It took an hour of walking, with plenty of stops to catch our breath, to reach the outskirts of the town proper. Along the way, we saw lots of goats and sheep picking at the hardy native grasses and shrub. There weren't any humans tending them, and the few farmhouses we passed were empty. That was concerning.

As we got closer to the town we starting seeing chickens running around freely. Harlan didn't comment on this so I assumed it was the standard way of things.

At the outskirts of the town, we encountered a burned hovel. We took a minute to look inside. I needed the break and this was a good excuse.

What we found inside was ghastly. At least ten bodies, charred and burned. I feared what had happened, but was oddly heartened by it. If these were sick people; an attempt to combat the plague was being made. Not humane, not kind, but a least an effort to preserve the lives of the healthy. It didn't stop my stomach from churning.

I suppose a moment should be taken to discuss how these farmhouses and hovels were constructed.

The lack of trees in the isles and their needs as shipbuilding materials means that the hovels are not wooden shanty shacks. Instead, they are made of turf pulled from the ground like early Icelandic homes or some original homes of the American prairie. Inside there was some wood to help form the frame but even that was mostly stone used to build columns the wooden beams interfaced with. The outside of the homes were strips of sod pulled from the ground and used to make walls.

Thus the burned hovel was almost more an earthen oven than a bunch of charred wooden beams.

Moving deeper into the town we came upon cobblestone roads and short buildings made of stone with slate roofs. The tallest building was perhaps three stories tall and had a tower or spire rising a further two stories from its top, making it stand above the rest of the town.

"What is that?" I asked, pointing at it as we walked through the deserted streets.

"Harbor lord's home," Harlan replied.

So it was a lookout post, maybe even a light stand for ships coming in at times of darkness or fog.

We found living people just before the harbor. At building that smelled sweetly of bread and baking. There was a group of children huddled on the step, waiting near the open windows with over large sills. They started when they saw us walk up.

"Balrick! Balrick!" one of the little boys cried banging on the door.

We stopped as the door swung open, the children rushed in, and it slammed shut. A face and torso appeared in the window. The man was pudgy, but not quite fat, clean shaven, and wielding a short round piece of wood like he knew how to use it. His front was covered in flour and he didn't look happy to see us. This must be Balrick.

"Who are you and what do you want?" He asked eyeing us warily. Harlan spoke first from us, as we agreed.

"Harlan and Alex from Achentheckon Grenbaejhon. I am the son of Harwick, high captain of house Achentheckon."

Balrick seemed to think it over for a second, then grunted, tapping his hand with his rolling pin. "More from the grenbaejhon? Are you here to do the same as the last group? They ran through pillaging the town even as the Herjawstargekinoi curse struck us down?"

He was doing his best to look menacing, though what a baker thought he could do against an armored man and his… squire I guess was the roll Harlan was playing. Anyway, what the baker though he might be able to do was beyond me.

Luckily for him, I was here to make friends, not foes.

I stepped forward, handing my ax and shield to Harlan. "We aren't here to make problems. Everyone else at Achentheckon Grenbaejhon is dead. Everyone besides, Harlan, his sister, a maester and myself."

Harlan goggled at me. I suppose letting people know a castle was undefended wasn't exactly the best plan. Balrick didn't react as badly, but he shoulders relaxed a hint.

"We have been making it home. We come now to find survivors." I said slightly less than eloquently. Balrick was noticing it too.

"What is wrong with your konewr? Are you some vyhonjaewr wearing armor?" He asked before turning to Harlan. "Why are you following him?"

I turned to Harlan for an explanation of the new words. Harlan shuffled awkwardly. It occurred to me at that moment he was still holding my ax and shield. I took them off him quickly. "What is he saying?" I whispered.

Harlan glanced at the waiting Balrick and me. He shrugged. "He thinks you are a vyhonjaewr. A… Someone from far far away who is here because a warrior took them." He said.

I tried to make sense of what he said. '_Someone from far far away because a warrior took them._' Then the light dawned on me. '_A slave, or for the Iron Isles I guess a thrall.' _I felt my blood heat. '_That fucking baker thinks I am a slave while I stand here clad in armor.' _

"[I am no thrall,]" I said making sure to use English. "[I am Alexander, first of my blood on these shores.]" I glared at Balrick and did my best to ensure my posture was proper according to what Albar tried to teach me.

Balrick's eyes widened at my tone. His shoulders tensed again and his hand tightened on the rolling pin. Harlan spoke up, explaining things as quickly as he could. The children had apparently been listening in on all this and as Harlan started telling the story as he knew it they risked peeking out of the bakery.

I looked around as Harlan told the tale. The bakery was at a corner near the center of the city. Past the bakery was what looked like a central square. A block or two down was the harbor lord's home. Finally, Harlan finished his explanation and stopped talking.

I saw Balrick was no longer getting ready for a fight. Instead, he was giving me a moment's consideration. "You are not from here. You washed up on the shore, were taken to the castle, and woke after the curse killed almost everyone, else they had fled or joined the Herjawstargekin in his hall. Since then, you have been learning our konewr, setting the castle to rights, learning to use that ax of yours, and teaching things from your home far far away. Is that right?" He seemed to take a moment to consider it before tacking on, "Gi'torewn."

That was a phrase I hadn't heard before. I again glanced at Harlan. "My Torewn is what he meant."

'_Oh, my lord. Gin Torewn, Gi'torewn. That baker just called me M'lord didn't he.'_

Balrick seemed to be waiting for an answer. I could wonder at the title later.

"You are right, Balrick," I said, pausing to let him confirm I got his name right. "I don't know how I came here, but I am here now. I will do my best to survive, and if that means teaching others up so be it. Are you and the children all that is left?" I asked nodding towards the kids.

"No, Gi'Torewn." The honorific seemed to come more naturally to him this time. "There are more people living throughout the town or that ran for the hills away from the coast. Some others piled on the ships and boats and cut them loose hoping to flee the curse. The harbor lord was the first to cut and run. He took his family on his traneslock while throwing open the harbor gate."

I rolled my shoulders, resettling the armor. It was heavy and I wanted to be out of it, but I still needed it. We hadn't gotten into a fight yet, and Balrick seemed willing to accept me as a lord, but I doubted such luck would hold.

"Can you take us to the others or bring them to us?" I asked. "I want to get a count of who survived, who needs help, and what we at the castle might do to help."

Balrick looked confused. "But there's only four of you."

"And?" I asked staring back at him.

Balrick broke first. He looked away, then at something in his shop for a moment. "Alright, I can bring them to the nolat brilck soon as the current trasten is done if that is alright with you Gi'Torewn."

Waiting for fresh bread was, of course, okay with us. He was generous enough to share some with us. The taste was heavenly. That shit I was making was disgusting compared to this masterwork of gluttony. I was prepared to do whatever I needed to bring him to my employ just so I could keep eating his delicious bread.

The children all got a roll of their own as well. There was plenty more bread which he set aside to sell to the few other survivors before he took us to the nolat brilck. I had Harlan drop a few silvers as we were leaving as thanks. Whatever he felt was appropriate.

The nolat brilck turned out to be the town square. Reaching it gave me my first good view of the harbor itself. The harbor was walled off from the rest of town with the harbor lord's home seemingly serving as the keep for the walls. Towers, at the edge of town, anchored the short walls with more evenly spaced towers keeping watch along the wall, ensuring no force could land here unmolested. The harbor stuck into the bay. A large construction of stone and wooden piers with pilings further out in the bay for the biggest ships, or those which did not need to dock at that moment.

Currently, the great gate to the harbor was open, showing it empty of ships. A few small boats, but nothing I would take into open water. Along the waterside edge of the wall, there were warehouses and what looked like a single shipyard with room for perhaps two ships to be built at a time.

In the center of the square was a statue of an Ironborn warrior. He was kitted out in half-plate wielding a pair of axes seemingly in mid-leap between ships. It was a surprisingly well-done statue and I wondered if it was the work of a native or a talented thrall.

We waited around the statue with the children. There was a half-dozen of them. Four boys and two girls, I think. They were dirty, but not so badly as to make they seem like street urchins. Harlan took to talking with them as we waited for Balrick to gather up the other survivors.

Or rather, they started talking to Harlan and he replied. Carefully at first, but they quickly started getting more out of him. I only half listened as I tried to take in more of the town. Looking back towards the east I could just see the castle perched on the cliffside up the hill we'd walked down getting here.

To the north was the harbor and its bay, gentle waves rolled and lapped against the piers. It was a sound that brought me back to my youth. Overhead the sound of gulls and other seabirds played the soft melody of the ocean.

The smell was that of salt, fish, and death. It was clear some effort had gone into cleaning up the town from the dead. We hadn't seen many bodies and the burned down sod hovel meant efforts were made to fight it.

Harlan could only keep the children occupied for so long and it was apparently taking Balrick more than a quick minute to round everyone up. It was the oldest of the bunch, one of the girls that spoke first.

"What is it like in far far away?" She asked. I turned towards her, cocking my head. "If you do not mind me asking, Gi'Torewn." She said doing a nervous little mockery of a curtsey.

'_Again someone calling me a lord. It's so weird. These are the Ironborn. The Land of Reavers, but I guess peasants are peasants everywhere. Or maybe they're just being kind to the guy in armor and arms when they don't have any handy.'_

"Hmm, where to start with life far far away? Do you have something you want to learn?" I asked the girl. This caught the attention of the other children. The girl shook her head. I turned to face her, which brought me around to face the open harbor gate and the bay beyond.

'_That works.' _I thought as my gaze drifted over one of the small boats left behind.

"How about I tell you a bit about my childhood. Harlan, if I get stuck on a word help me out." I said. Harlan nodded. He knew a bit about me, but I was coming to find he was an eager student any time I talked about Earth. Not necessarily the brightest candle in the chandelier, but eager.

"My home was in a place called [North Carolina]. It was a broad [state], like one of the kingdoms, made of ten times ten [counties]," I began, forgetting the word for one-hundred. "Can anyone tell me how many that is?"

What? I wasn't going to miss a chance to start educating these kids. Harlan was the first to speak.

"Semast!" Harlan said after doing some quick math on his hand.

"Right Harlan, semast [counties]. A [county] being like a smaller lordship. In the west, there are old mountains, worn down by time, but in the east, the land met water." The children were listening attentively for now.

"In far far away all children spend most of the year in [school] where we learn how to read, write, math, and how the world works," I said trying to make school sound mystical and interesting. "But for some of the year, we were free from school. It was during this time I went to a summer [camp] by the water, far from my home, but nowhere near as far far away as this place."

I continued talking telling tale of my time at a little summer camp on the banks of the Neuse River. Sailing, swimming, canoeing, nature, worships, friends, first kisses. I didn't realize how long I had been talking until a polite grunt from behind when I paused at the end of my story about getting stung by jellyfish after capsizing while racing a storm.

I turned to see Balrick had returned, with a large group of survivors. Many more than I could count in a second. At the front were Balrick himself, a short heavily muscled man with a leather apron, and an older couple wearing nothing which highlighted their profession.

"Gi'Torewn Alex, I have gathered most of us. About three-hundred of us that stayed in Achentjynad." He said, standing uneasily between the crowd and me. Some of his earlier confidence and strength seemed to have left him.

I looked down at him and realized I was looking down at him. I looked over the crowd and realized I was taller than all except maybe a few of them. I was also broader than most of them as well.

'_I wonder if that had anything to do with why him and that girl have called me a lord. I've come down from the castle taller and generally broader than everyone else here, armed, armored, and with someone who claims to be the son of a part of the lord's court.'_

I cleared my throat. "Good Work Balrick. Do you speak for them or is there another?" I asked, raising my voice to address the host. There was a moment of muttering and jostling before the smith stepped forward.

He had a defiant look on his face. "I am Balon and I will speak for us." He said. Balrick stepped aside but didn't rejoin the crowd. "I heard some of your story, enough to believe what Balrick said is true. I also don't care. You might be from far far away, but you are coming from Achentheckon Grenbaejhon. Last group ran through the city pillaging before fleeing like a bunch of frawntkin royntdreodst. Balrick says you want to help. Calls you a lord," Balon spit on the ground between us and fingered a hammer in his belt

"I say you are just another royntdreodst beahon and we are better off without you or anyone from the Grenbaejhon for that matter." He said, drawing his hammer. It was well worn it rested easily in his hand. There was a muttering of agreement rising from the crowd.

"You have not paid the Bren Taewr for the castle and you are not my lord." He growled. Harlan had moved to stand behind me and whispered in my ear.

"He is going to fight you. They don't think you have earned the right to be called a lord or to lead." Harlan said. He paused for a moment. "But you saved my sister. That is enough for me."

Balon had kept ranting. Balrick was looking very worried and had gathered the, I assumed, orphan children over to the side. The crowd was with him. Harlan was right, I was going to have to fight.

But…

Balon, and how appropriate was that name, looked to be some kind of smith. A smith sounds damn fucking useful. I didn't want to kill him if I could avoid it.

I didn't want to die either, but I was trying to stick to a positive mental model. Sure he might kill me, but if I thought I was going to win my odds improved.

It's true. Promise.

"Harlan, will I have to kill him?" I whispered without turning my head.

Harlan shrugged. "Probably, why does it matter. You are a warrior are you not."

I slumped a little as I exhaled and reset my mind for the fight. I was going to take a life. Not my first, but my first face to face. "I am a soldier, Harlan."

I wondered if he understood the difference between the two.

Balon had worked a good chunk of the crowd into a frenzy. He was currently waving his hammer over his head saying something about lords, Bren, and royntdreodst. He wasn't even looked at me. I tilted my hand and let the ax haft slide until I had a proper grip. Then I started walking towards Balon.

He turned when he heard my armor jingle. As he turned I picked up speed. I slammed into him and tried to bury my ax in his gut. Balon stumbled back and quickly brought his hammer down, slamming into my arms and driving my ax away.

'_There goes the surprise attack.'_

I disengaged as he tried to backhand his hammer into my face and brought my shield up. The crowd started forming up around us.

"I am going to kill you royntdreodst, and I am going to enjoy it," Balon said cruelly. He charged and I caught his blow on the shield, once, twice, thrice, and again for seven times. On the seventh rebound, I threw my arm forward, earning a satisfying crunch as my shield hit his face. I hadn't planned t; it just felt right at that moment.

Balon stumbled away, blood streaming from his nose. I press my advantage and brought my ax around for an overhead swing. Balon caught it on his hammer and parried it away. Then, driven again by that unknown instinct, I brought the ax back around and bash the poll against his knee.

Balon howled in pain and lashed out wildly with his hammer keeping me back after he landed a wild hit on my arm. I turtled up with the shield and nursed my arm while I waited for another opening.

Balon forced himself to his feet, hate in his eyes. He didn't charge again but began circling around to my unshielded side. I realized I was breathing heavily and my heart rate was near pounding. If this kept up I was going to be too worn out to keep fighting.

Balon must have sensed it because he started playing cat and mouse games with me. He would dart forward, tag my shield, feint to one side or the other. It was quite annoying.

Again, that sense of when to strike overtook me and just as he came forward I exploded towards him. He was too committed to stop or block as I let the shield fall and brought the ax around and buried it in the side of his chest, right between two ribs.

He fell, yanking the ax from my hand.

He glared at me from his knee as blood filled his lungs and spilled from his heart. A dribble of it trickled for his lips as he struggled to breath. "Frawnt. He muttered, his unarmed hand wrapping around the ax haft.

I felt safe. My foe was defeated. The fight was over. I was only mostly right.

As I sucked downed deep breaths of glorious fresh sea air, Balon threw the last of his strength into a final attack. He pushed off the ground with a gargled yell. I tried to dodge back, but his hammer still came down on my leg.

We both fell to the ground.

My leg was on fire. He'd hit above the greaves, on my unprotected thigh. Fortunately, it felt like nothing was broken, my ax in his chest robbing Balon of his strength. Unfortunately, it still hurt like a motherfucker. I tried to stand but stumbled as the pain lanced through my leg.

'_Son of a bitch. That is going to hurt for a while.' _I thought. The crowd had fallen silent. Harlan had slid up next to me, ready to support me if necessary. I waved him off.

I looked down at the body and realized what Bren Taewr meant. '_The Iron Price. Damn the Drowned faith.' _I thought. '_Now a potentially useful smith is dead. I don't know if he is any good, and now I never will.'_

The crowd was looking at me, waiting. They backed up a couple of steps as I kicked the body over and removed my ax from it. It didn't come easily. It took a few tugs, and the squelching sounds made my stomach churn.

My ax recovered, I took up my battered shield once again and starred the crowd down. For a long minute, I didn't say anything; then I motioned Harlan to stand beside me.

He moved up and did his best to look properly meaning.

"I win. Will anyone else challenge me?"

The crowd was silent. This was a risk, but one I had to take. No one took it up.

"Have I paid the Bren Taewr? Have I paid the Iron Price? Do you doubt me?" I asked again. There was a soft muttered of no from the crowd, a few defiant faces glaring at me.

"You are Iron. You are strong. You who survived the strongest of the Iron." I said softly.

"But Iron is no longer enough," I shouted. "A new future is coming. Something greater is needed. Steel.

"Steel is better. Steel is stronger, harder. Steel is what is needed. Steel which comes from iron."

I paused for a second. "Follow me, I will make Iron into Steel. I will help you make yourself stronger, better, harder."

The crowd was silent now. Confusion and curiosity on most faces.

I raised my ax and shouted. "Iron into Steel. Stronger, better, harder"

Silence fell on the crowd, and for a long second, I thought I'd blown my chance. Not having mastery of the language hurt. How do you say born of iron, forged as steel? Well too late to find out now.

"Steel from Iron!" Harlan called out pumping a fist in the air. Balrick took up the cry. Then the children, then the crowd slowly joined in.

"Steel from Iron," They all chanted. "Steel! Steel! Steel!"

I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe I could actually pull this off. The crowd wasn't absolutely going crazy, but that was okay. I could win them over in time. Humans like to have someone in charge. My plague created an opening. This was my chance to seize it.

Now I just had to lay the basic plan out for them and get some to move into the castle. The sooner they got used to listening to me the better. At least for now.

XxX


	8. Chapter 7: The Wider World

**Chapter 7: The Wider World**

1 Eight Moon 250 AC

Septon Desmond knelt before the rough carvings of the Seven-who-are-one in his Sept. His congregation filled the church, praying for peace and safety. The Stranger's Judgement had come to Fair Isle a fortnight ago. Since then, the people of the island had been falling ill and then falling dead. It seemed to strike down Fair Islers at random. Nobles, hedge knights, merchants, city dwellers, or smallfolk in their farms, it didn't matter.

Septon Desmond had been hard at work during each day, going from house to house, performing final rites for the dead, praying over the ill, bringing food and water to those unable to gather it themselves. His was a small sept, responsible for a little town known as Drooping Oaks for the pair of trees which were bowed and bent on the way into town from Faircastle.

'_Even calling it a town is a kindness.' _Septon Desmond thought. '_It is all so different from Oldtown, but the third son is destined for the maesters or the Faith and I had no interest in birds.'_

"We pray to the Crone for guidance to lead us in this dark time." Septon Desmond called out in prayer.

"The Crone's Wisdom enlighten us."

"We pray to the Father, that the dead may be judged justly."

"Father's Justice find us."

"We pray to the Warrior. May the sick find the strength to fight on."

"Warrior's Strength aid us."

"We pray to the Smith, that the health may find the strength to complete the work of the ill."

"The Smith's Works inspire us."

"We pray to the Mother, that those caring for the sick and dying remain well."

"The Mother's Embrace protect us."

"We pray to the Maiden. May the innocent be spared suffering."

"The Maiden's Grace bless us."

"Lastly we pray to the Stranger."

"Who comes for all."

Together with his congregation, he intoned. "The Seven guide and shelter us. The seven strengthen and embrace us. The Seven have shown us wisdom and Mercy. Though seven aspects one god."

Shortly thereafter the service ended. The smallfolk went to their homes, and Septon Desmond went to his quarters. Sparsely furnished, they were his home.

A small clay figure from a child. A blanket quilted by the old ladies of the town. A couple of warn copies of the Seven-Pointed-Star he used to teach the few people with the aptitude, interest, and donations to read. A single west-facing window looked out of the town towards the horizon.

Septon Desmond stood by the window for a moment, watching the town.

"Of merciful Seven, please watch over us. Guide me and protect us. Spare us your wrath. If we have done something to anger you give me a sign of how we might repent and come back to your light." He prayed from the window.

He left the window and readied himself for bed. As he spared a last glance out his window and extinguished the last of the candles, he saw something go shooting across the sky. Then a second. A third.

Septon Desmond rushed to his wind and followed the trails as best he could. They all landed in the northwest of the sky.

'_Is this the sign I have been praying for? What does it mean?' _He wondered. Septon Desmond went to bed, sleep long in coming as he tried to discern the will of the Seven-Who-Are-One.

The next day he served the people Drooping Oaks for long hours. That night, seven stars streaked across the sky, but this time he was outside, watching, tracking, trying to understand.

The third night, several men from the village joined him.

The fourth night the debate began on if they were meant to guide them forth.

The fifth night someone managed to scrounge a map from the village, and they attempted to draw a line towards where the shooting stars converged.

The sixth night Septon Desmond prayed in desperation. There was only one place in the direction of the stars. The Iron Isles.

The seventh night, seventy-seven stars flew through the sky. There was no doubting the will of the Seven-Who-Are-One.

'_I must remember to be careful what I wish for.' _There was no doubting the Seven's will. Who is to say if the other Septons would see the same message? Septon Desmond decided to set out for Faircastle and book passage from there. While in Faircastle he would try and prevail upon the lord to let him send a message. Else a traveling Septon, holy brother, or septa would have to be found.

What he didn't expect was for the town to rise to follow him.

"But this is your homes. A new Septon will come soon enough. Until then, Wyd can read well enough to lead the prayers. I must do this. It is my mission. My prayer that is being answered." Septon Desmond argued when, as he prepared to leave on the eighth day, he saw the people of Drooping Oaks loading wagons and carts with their livelihood.

"You've been good to us Septon. You have been here for a long time now. You looked after us. Even when the Judgement came and folks were cowering in their homes, you started going door to door making sure everyone was taken care of. Now you are going off on a mission from the Seven himself." Darrel, the leader of the hodgepodge convo said. Heads nodded at his words.

"The Seven-Who-Are-One gave me a sign. I must follow it and see where it leads. That doesn't mean you must give up your homes and lives to follow me." Septon Desmond replied. Didn't these people understand the risk, danger, cost of this journey? He didn't expect to ever return to Drooping Oak.

"A sign we all did see. The Judgement has passed Septon. The sick who survived are getting well. It might be dangerous, but that is all the more reason you need us. Me, Tom, and Wilbert all fought in that last rebellion out on those tiny islands all the way on the other side of Westeros." Tom and Wilbert cheered their agreement as Darrel continued. "That is more than you Septon. We're coming with you."

Septon Desmond sent up a silent prayer for patience. He would continue to argue all day long to no avail. Then, he tried to slip out in the night only to be caught and the whole town roused to follow him. In the end, he accepted his fate. On the ninth day, the survivors of Drooping Oak set out for Faircastle.

XxX

10 Eight Moon 250

'_The Riverlands are burning. Well, the lands all around Stone Hedge are burning.' _Jonos thought as he took a break from the smithy, staring off the walls at the smoke rising from where he knew little hamlets to be. '_Damn the Judgement.'_

Ever since the Stranger's Judgement arrived, the Riverlands had become a mess. People fleeing the disease. Lord's bickering turned to fighting. Castle towns became ghost towns. Hamlet turned to tombs or else abandoned by smallfolk fleeing the disease and the fighting. The Judgement spread across the hills and rivers like wildfire.

'_Fine one second, dead by the next day. It ain't a natural.' _Jonos thought as he stepped down off the walls to return to the forge. Work was tough and long was the list of projects that needed doing. Tough because he wasn't even the first smith this week to be assigned to projects. Long because the previous two had only just moved in before they fell ill. '_Though I've heard Harry Ironfoot didn't fall ill so much as he might have been made dead for saying summat he shouldn't of.' _

Jonos entered the forge. The only assistant he had was still leaning against the wall. They had just finished a set of nails for Lord Bracken. Next up was replacing a piece of the Lord Bracken's armor which had been damaged the day before fighting some bandits. '_Well they say bandits; I wonder if it wasn't the Blackwoods.' _

'_Worst part is having just one apprentice. He isn't even really mine, just the only one that hasn't run away or died.' _Jonos roused the apprentice. "Time to get back to work. Get the bellow pumping, boy."

The apprentice groaned but got to work. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down. He pumped and pumped and pumped. Soon as the metal was ready Jonos pulled it from the forge and brought it to the anvil.

"Tongs!" He called out. The apprentice let of the bellows and took the tongs from Jonos' hands. Now came the hard part. Jonos brought the hammer down. Again, and again, doing the work of three men alone. His arms burned as he slammed the hammer against the steel.

Soon the steel had cooled, but the work wasn't done. "Bellows!"

Back and forth they continued to work until the new pauldron was ready to be quenched. Once the task was done the apprentice collapsed to the ground. "Master Jonos, I can't… No more. I have no more left."

Jonos grunted gruffly, making sure to hide his own exhaustion. "Fine. No more today, but we have to get several orders done tomorrow." The apprentice gulped down air and muttered his thanks. Jonos moved the pauldron to the side to be polished then walked out.

Only once he was out of sight of the apprentice did he let his exhaustion slow. '_There has to be a better way. We can't keep working like this.'_

XxX

19 Eighth Moon 250

Ser Hobor thrust his spear forth, brought it back. Forth, and back. Forth and back from his position on the Bloody Gate. The press of bodies continued. Desperate people fleeing the Judgement continued their assault. The Bloody Gate earned its name, and their lifeblood coated the ancient stones once again.

Beside Ser Hobor, one of the guardsmen was pulled from the wall when he didn't retract his spear quickly enough. A second later that spear was being used against him.

"Damn recruits." He muttered as the spear slid again his plate and bit into his mail. Another ladder was lain upon the wall. He really wished for archers. Too bad the bolts and arrows ran out two days ago. A chivalric charge by knights of the Vale to clear the valley beyond the gate would be nice too, but words were starting to arrive that the mountain clans were taking advantage of the chaos to raid both sides of the mountains.

He killed a smallfolk wielding the stolen spear three times before he was able to snatch it back. The spear had done its job though. Good steel proving useful against him unlike the farm tools and knives tied to sticks. He was slowing down and he saw more and more of the mob reaching the top of the wall. Suddenly someone yanked him back.

"Get into the keep if you want to keep breathing. Ser Robert is going to lead a charge along the wall. Go!" Ser Jonnel yelled at him over the din of battle.

"If I leave, they will storm the wall." Ser Hobor argued.

"Let them try to stand against horses." Ser Jonnel replied before rushing toward the other guardsmen and knights manning the wall.

Ser Hobor looked back and forth along the wall. He lashed out as he charged to the keep. It wasn't a retreat. Not in the least. At last, he reached the postern door and was pulled inside. A pair of young hands helped him out of his armor and another set of hands laid him on the table to wait for the maester or Septon to reach him. The maester made it first.

"Just some bandages. Wash it with the strongwine first then wrap it up. Hopefully, Maester Alyn was right about how to prevent infection." The maester said to one of his many assistants before moving on.

Several others came in as the assistant washed his wounds with the strongwine, a waste though he did spare Ser Hobor a few drops, and bound them. A last guardsman made it through before the door was slammed shut and the call for aid went out to keep it shut.

Ser Hobor threw himself against the door with the others. For long moments the battle raged to keep it closed. Then there was a pounding of horseshoes on stone, screaming, tearing of flesh, and silence. Ser Hobor collapsed with the others.

The next morning, he would wake, don his armor, and the cycle would start over. He helped toss the ruined bodies of the mob over the edge. The Bloody Gate had earned its name again. It was shut by order of Lord Arryn. It would remain shut and protect the Vale against the horrors of the Judgement by the acts of men like Ser Hobor, Ser Jonnel, and Ser Robert.

XxX

21 Eight Moon 250

Duncan, who was once a prince, wept. Duncan, who gave up the crown for the woman he loved, screamed. Duncan Targaryen, the first-born son of Aegon the Fifth, clutched the corpse of his Jenny close and raged against the world, its people, the Seven, and all the other gods he knew.

The Judgement took Jenny from him. Once he was finally separated from the body, the empty shell which once held the most beautiful person in his world, Duncan found one of his brother Jaehaery's many idle squires.

After the squire helped him donned his black armor, Duncan went to the Wisdoms. He gathered a force and set out into the city.

'_The city must be purified. Father is unwilling to do what must be done and that killed Jenny. No more will I allow the Judgement to remain in King's Landing.' _Duncan thought as wildfire consumed the first building in Flea Bottom. And the second. The third.

By the time King Aegon, the Kingsguard, and a force of Gold Cloaks arrived to stop him, large parts of King's Landing were burning to the ground, the wildfire expertly managed by the Wisdoms and their Acolytes to keep it from spreading.

His namesake forced Duncan to the ground before his father. A whorehouse on the Street of Silk burning in the background. A flaming body jumped from the window, hit the ground and was quickly smothered by part of the team Duncan had assembled.

"Duncan, what in the Seven Hells are you doing? What is the meaning of this?" King Aegon demanded. It was rare to see his father wroth, though Duncan was no stranger to it.

"Purifying the city, your grace. Cleansing it of the sick and dying to save the living. Better to burn it all away than to allow the taint to spread." He told his father, straining against the grip of Ser Duncan.

King Aegon's eye reflected the fire. "Take him away. Put him in the Black Cells until I determine a suitable punishment. Him and the Wisdoms."

XxX

27 Eighth Moon 250

Highgarden was emptied. Its great gardens, its high walls, and its grand halls all emptied of the chivalry of House Tyrell. Olenna glided through the halls as she made for the ravenry. Luthor, the lummox, had taken all the strength of arms he could to close the Rose Road from the crownlands. He'd ordered the Hightowers to see to the Ocean Road, and for her family to prevent any ships from entering the Reach.

"Yes, just go charging into a mass of smallfolk. Your armor and pointing sticks will protect you from this foul illness," Olenna muttered to herself. Luthor wasn't a bad husband. She could certainly have done worse. Daeron for instance.

But, at times like this, she wished he had a bit more in his head than stories and glory. She understood that he needed to do something. He had to occupy the lords of the Reach to prevent it from going the way of the Riverlands, but that didn't mean he had to be the one to do it.

"A foolish thing to go charging off without an heir, though not for a lack of trying before he left."

Olenna reached the Ravenry and found the maester there sitting in behind a desk full of letters. "Maester Tomlay, what news?"

Maester Tomlay looked up. He was young for a maester, but skilled, having been a true prodigy to hear him say it. He wasn't bad looking behind the desk either. Then he stood and moved around the desk. Letters in one hand and crutch in the other.

And there was the problem with him. A cripple since birth. A cursed child with a leg which didn't form right.

"Lady Tyrell, I was just about to bring these to you. News from King's Landing, Lord Hightower, and Lord Footly." He said, hobbling over and passing her the notes.

Olenna took them quickly from his hands. Maester Tomlay was competent, but his malformity left him so slow as to be useless half the time. If only Luthor hadn't needed to take the other two with him.

"All the better I came for them then," She said, quickly going through them in order.

'_The lovesick Prince is burning the city. The king has had him arrested, but there is much anger of the illness and the Prince's arson. Leave it to a Targaryen to burn his own city.' _Olenna though after she read the first note. '_Thank the Seven I got out of that betrothal.'_

She moved that note to the bottom and started on the next one.

'_Having finished mustering at Brightwater. Leave tomorrow for Old Oak. From Lord Oakheart: Westerlands are falling apart around the Laughing Lion. Levy fled and knights unable to stem the stream South. The Ocean road is open.' _Olenna scowled. "Oakheart? More like Fodderbrained. If he leaves that rode open the Judgement will sweep down our coast." She muttered.

"Yes, my lady. I have already passed word to the Citadel to let them know."

"For all the good it does. Hightower will have already passed word no doubt. Will this somehow make them more ready? Will they begin to produce more maesters out of thin air? Will more Septons, Septas, Holy Brothers and Silent Sisters appear as a gift from the Seven?"

Olenna ignored his reply and moved onto the last letter.

'_Rose Road closed. Received reports of waves of smallfolk crossing open land fleeing from Riverlands. Crownlands also in chaos. Three cases of Judgement discovered in Tumbleton. Have taken necessary steps.' _

"The necessary steps?" Olenna questioned sparing a single glance at Maester Tomlay.

"There are several things he could have done. Quarantine is the most likely but, if he rightly fears the spread of the disease, burning the homes with the ill inside may also work."

"Like the Prince? Do I need to fear you suggesting we burn Highgarden to the ground if someone comes down with a cough Maester Tomlay?" Olenna asked coldly.

Maester Tomlay looked back at her, not backing down. "Medicine is my specialty, my lady. Five links. Five for its mysteries. What is the Judgement? Unknown. What is known is that it strikes hard and fast. It can kill in hours. It spreads quickly. A person seems to drown in their own fluids in hours, or it may take days, or the lucky ones survive."

"And so we should burn people in their homes? Should a keep be put to the torch if a lord or lady falls ill?"

"Yes. Dammit it all, yes. You kill the disease and all who may carry it. Should we? Yes. If we wanted to give ourselves the best chance to live, Lord Tyrell will kill everyone coming across the borders, and we will destroy any instance of it in our borders. Else we shall soon join the rest of the realm."

Olenna scowled and spun away. It was harsh words from a crippled maester, but she feared to admit he was right. She knew the Game. How to talk to lords, ladies, and the few others that mattered while ordering the rest about. This crisis… This wasn't going to be solved by men with pointy sticks or cunning or manipulation. It could only be won by raw luck and hard choices.

She stopped by a window and looked out over Highgarden. Its beautiful gardens, high walls, and great halls didn't look so strong as they did before.


	9. Chapter 8: Homecoming

**Chapter 8: Homecoming**

1 Ninth Moon 250

"SAILING TAKES ME AWAY. TO WHERE I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO BE!" I belted out from my spot on the first Archentheckon sloop-rigged boat to ever exist. I was sailing the boat solo, enjoying a moment away from the work I'd taken on. Even though being out sailing alone was still work, in a way.

The fact I was able to sail was a point in my favor among the Ironborn. That I designed and built, with some help, a different type of rigging won over even a few of the more recalcitrant locals. Though they were still skeptical of the sloop design.

Which was a good microcosm of everything going on really.

In the six weeks since I revealed myself in town and "took control" of everything, people had steadily returned to Achentjynad from the interior of the island and from the sea. Getting them integrated wasn't too hard. Getting them to accept my leadership was another matter.

Even though I was nominally in control, I wasn't by any means an absolute ruler. I might have paid the Bren Taewr, but the Ironborn were a quarrelsome lot. Though no one else had tried for my blood yet, leading them was exhausting, so here I was taking a break and sailing.

Being on the water reminded me of my childhood on the Neuse River. Summer camp days spent sailing Sunfish or Aqua Fins in circles, taking Flying Scot trips up and down the river, swimming in the camp pond, the delicious food, singing at meals, worship in the evenings, first kisses and first loves of childhood. '_I wonder if I should bring summer camp to Westeros. A consideration for the far far future perhaps. If I live that long. It wouldn't be that different from the fostering concept, just shorter in duration. Hmm.'_

I tacked back to the docks and saw a red flag waving from the furthest North East tower on the Seawall. '_Another ship on the horizon.' _I thought as I tightened the main sheet a bit and took a better point of sail towards the docks.

The little boat didn't skip along the water like a Sunfish could, but I still made it back to the docks in good time, passing the few fishing boats plying the bay.

"Report," I cried out as I approached, throwing a line to the dockhand waiting for me.

"A traneswohtock flying Achentheckon colors, Gi'Torewn." He said, catching the line easily and following along the dock until I pointed into the wind and came to a stop. Together we quickly tied the boat off and furled the sail.

"Do you know its name, Tristan? For that matter, did the last Torewn have multiple transwohtockoi in his _fleet_?" I asked as I stepped onto the dock.

"_Fleet?" _Tristan asked trying the English word.

"The wohtockoi under his command.' I said. 'One transwohtock is just a wohtock, seven of them would be a?"

"Oh, the Achentheckon Bjaden. There were three transwohtockoi, Gi'Torewn. Didn't need so many what with the Greyjoy's changes. Can't tell which one yet myself, Victorian will know by now though."

"Thanks, I'll go ask him then," I said. I hurried for the harbormaster's keep where the Achentjynad part of the militia was based out of.

The militia wasn't the most organized force to ever exist. It was just old greybeards, young boys, and any other adult male who had more than a couple hours of free time on any given day. Even then, most only pulled duty once a week with drill for everyone every seventh day. I'd formed it for two reasons.

Firstly, to provide a defense force in case anything did come up. Some of the returning folk spoke of bandits in the interior and I wasn't sure there wouldn't be a transwohtock full of reavers making an unwanted port of call.

Secondly, it would provide a starting point for military I needed to protect the society I was trying to build. Protect it from other people and the Others.

One group was based out of the castle, were I was still living for the moment. The other was based in the harbormaster's keep, led by Tadst Victorian Gar.

He was an old veteran reaver who, no joke, took an arrow to the knee. Between that and the reforms, a word he said with scorn, he'd stopped reaving. Nowadays, he wasn't the most agile of people, but he was a good enough leader for me put him in charge of the town portion of the militia until someone better came along.

"Does anyone recognize the ship Tadst Gar?" I asked once I reached the commander's office.

The gap-toothed smile on his face answered before he did. "Yes, Torewn Alex. It's the Achent Hwanck under Tort Harwick. He left with a crew of a hundred before the damned disease hit."

I nodded. "Another hundred will go a long way. How far out are they?"

"Winds are fair, shouldn't be more than three turns of the hourglass."

"Understood. Let's put together a welcome party. Send some runners to get some fresh food and drinks for them."

"That will be a fine welcome for them." Tadst Gar said, no doubt thinking he could go back to his cheese and brewing once they arrived. That and the chance to replace me with someone from the ship's crew. Like I said the Ironborn were a quarrelsome lot. Tadst Gar might be a good leader, but he didn't like me or the changes I was trying to introduce. Hence why he was in the harbor and not part of the castle guard.

'_An army coming into town. Well, provided the ship didn't get hit by the flu. Of course, reaving was outlawed, as Victorian and the others have had no problem complaining about, so what was Harwick doing with his ship? Well given how everyone here talks about it, maybe the prohibition is going as well as Prohibition. There had to be a reason the Old Way made a comeback.'_

I huffed and puffed as I reached the inclined portion of the trail. I waved to the few shepherds out in the fields but didn't stop to chat. My mind was still running through the impending arrival.

'_Harwick is Harlan and Cerlina's fathers. Hopefully keeping them alive will earn me some credit with him. I need to talk to him, have a real serious sit down before anyone can poison him against me. Get him on board with what I am trying to do. Which, if he is an Old Way rape and pillage fan, won't be easy, but maybe, just maybe, I can get him to back the Steel Forged concept.' _

'_On the flip side, he likely has the best claim to the castle or the heir to the lord on that ship. He is loyal enough slash liked enough by the now-dead Torewn Achentheckon to be made a captain of one of the three ships in the fleet.'_

I reached the castle fairly quickly. The track between it and the town was very familiar to me by now. I found Harlan and Cerlina in the yard. Harlan was training with the spear today along with the other boys in his age group while the girls were all working on turning wool into yarn on the other side with Frieda, a shepherd's wife.

In addition to taking care of Cerlina and Harlan, I wound up taking in all the orphans from the town. The castle was the best-equipped place to put them, so unless a family wanted to take one in or a tradesman wanted an apprentice they were staying in the myriad of empty rooms. Of course, this had advantages when it came to starting the school by giving me a semi-captive audience.

Of course, calling it a school was a bit generous at this point, but a journey of a thousand miles with single steps and all that what-not.

"Finish up folks," I called out as I passed through the gates. "The Achent Hwanck has been spotted and we are going to throw a big welcome party for the crew."

A cheer went up and people started rushing around to get things put away and head down to the town. Harlan and Cerlina b-lined it straight to me.

"Is it really the Achent Hwanck? Is our father back?" Harlan asked eagerly as Cerlina echoed him.

"According to Tadst Gar, yes. It should be here in another couple of hours. Get cleaned up and meet me at the gatehouse. I want to greet him properly, and I think part of that should be seeing his children as he disembarks." I said.

"Yes ser." They both said before rushing off.

'_At least they are learning some manners. Now if only they would say it right. It's sir. Not ser.' _I thought to myself.

Once they rushed away, I turned to Tadst Quorin Cronewr, the leader of the castle guard. He was younger than me, but a capable enough fighter based on his performance, a decent leader, and most importantly, seemed fully onboard with becoming Steel Forged.

"Tadst Cronewr, make sure we keep some guards here. I don't think anything bad will happen, but just in case anyone gets the idea to take advantage of the party to mess with the Grenbaejhon I want someone here to keep an eye out."

"Yes, sir. I'll put Lowzhan and Danbast on it." He said, going to track the pair down. I continued on my way to the armory. I might be planning to play diplomacy, but I wasn't an idiot.

In the armory, I found the armor I'd worn into town the first time and, after tracking down some lucky laddie, donned it. I also grabbed El Señor Axo, a shield, and a dagger.

'_I want Harwick as an ally. Harlan and Cerlina are decent kids and having someone who served the last ruler serve me will lend me some legitimacy which should help quell some of the more quarrelsome of the Ironborn. I'm also assuming he is a competent captain and excellent warrior. Having someone like that around will let me start expanding beyond just Achentheckon Grenbaejhon and Achentjynad.'_

Now I just had to roll twenties on diplomacy.

The Black Wind reached port after four hours. It wasn't a massive ship, but it wasn't a small one either. The twenty oars running along each side were pulled up into the ship and the sail was furled as it slid into place along the docks. Ropes were tossed, calls shouted, and moments later it was secured to the docks.

As soon as the gangplank was in place the crew started disembarking. The first man off was clad in plate and mail. A well-used ax at his side and a pair of daggers strapped to his breastplate. His hair was long, dark, and braided. His face was overtaken by a bushy beard, but his eyes were sharp and piercing.

Cerlina ran past me right to him. "Father! You're back." She said as she was scooped up in his arms. Harwick looked confused for a second, but then the rest of the children, wives, girlfriends, and surviving parents of the crew rushed forward, Harlan among them.

'_So glad this is working out.' _I thought as I saw the families embrace, parents dote on their children, and lips locked between lovers. '_No matter what society you are from, familial love is a powerful thing. _

Harwick shuffled Cerlina over to his shoulder and pulled Harlan into a strong embrace. They separated, and he looked his son over. The smile on his face was a good sign. He asked Harlan a question and Harlan pointed at me.

Harwick looked at me and the smile disappeared. He straightened his back, let Cerlina down and began to march forward. His crew picked up on his change is posture and separated, reluctantly in many cases, from their loved ones to back up their captain.

They reached where I was standing, a few of the militia behind me and the party set up in the nolat brilck. Already sounds from instruments were wafting out to the dock.

"This is Alex, Father. He saved us from the disease which swept the island. Since then he has been trying to teach some of the things he knows and has become Torewn of Achentheckon." Harlan said when they reached me.

"Oh," Harwick said his eyes scanning me. For weakness or something else, I didn't know. Now that he was right in front of me, I realized he was only five foot tall, maybe an inch more. Yet, for all he was shorter than me, he didn't seem any less dangerous. '_Now to get the welcome speech right.'_

"Tort Harwick, welcome home. There is much we need to talk about, but it can wait a moment. Your journey has no doubt been long. There is a welcome party ready for you and your crew. Food and drinks a plenty to sate you after a long journey." I said. I reached behind me and one of the militia passed me a plate with bread and salt and a mug of ale. "As Tort of the Achent Hwanck it is only right you should be the first to partake."

Harwick eyed the plate and drink. He took them, gave me a simple nod, tapped the bread in the salt, ate it, and then chugged the ale. He wiped the foam from his beard and let out a belch. "Aye, no sane man will say no to a feast and drink." He looked over his shoulder. "Well what are you waiting for?"

His crew cheered, rejoined their loved ones, and rushed over to the party. If some of the crew looked confused where their loved ones were, or distraught as the townsfolk filled them in, I tried not to dwell on it.

A few moments later and there was just Harwick, Harlan, Cerlina, and me on the dock.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you. Your children spoke very highly of you. There is much we need to talk about. Would you be willing to join me in the harborkeep for dinner?"

Harwick thought it over for a second. "Harlan, you said this man saved your lives?"

"Yes father. He found us as the disease, the curse, was at its strongest. He saved Cerlina. He saved me." Harlan said.

"Hmm, the whole world out there is falling apart." Harwick said jerking a thumb back out to sea. "Islands tearing themselves apart, greenlanders going mad, and talk of judgment and curses from the gods. I feared what we would find." He said, fingering the ax at his side. "Harlan said you saved them. I'll sup with you. I can wait until the end of the meal to decide if I am going to kill you today."

I felt a shiver crawl along my back and didn't stop my hand from doing the same. "We can burn that bridge when we come to it," I said, waving towards the harbor keep. "Until then, let's go talk like civilized people."

Harwick snorted but agreed. With the children leading the way, we walked side by side with plenty of space between us to the room I'd had set up. A table was laid out for us with freshly fried fish, mussels in a milky broth, a haunch of lamb, a pair of small chickens, peas, potatoes, rolls, a soup with bits of squash and seaweed. A cask of ale for Harwick and I, and another of juice for the kids.

We took our seats and served ourselves in near silence. I ate the first bite for Harwicks' benefit. After I swallowed I looked him in the eye. "I'll start, I ask you to save all questions until the end and understand there are parts I don't understand myself."

Harwick motioned for me to get on with already. "To start with, until six weeks ago…"


	10. Chapter 9:Making Friends is Easy, Right?

**Chapter 9: Making Friends is Easy, Right?**

1 Ninth Moon 250

Silence fell over the table once I finished explaining my past to Harwick. '_So how will he react to what I just explained? How would I react to finding a stranger raising my kids in the wake of what seems like a near apocalypse claiming to be from another reality?'_

Harwick ignored me and turned to Harlan. "Harlan, is what this stranger says true or is he as crazy as it sounds?"

Harlan shrugged awkwardly. "Yes father."

"Yes, he speaks the truth or yes, he is crazy?"

"Yes." Harwick frowned at his son and Harlan made to elaborate. "He speaks the truth, father. The things he's taught us since arriving could not have been learned anywhere in Westeros. Even Maester Albar has been learning from him."

Harwick's eyes narrowed and he glared at me when Harlan mentioned teaching.

"But for all that," Harlan paused to give me an apologetic shrug. "He has to be mad. The things he talks about sound impossible. Reforging the Ironborn into a people of steel, the rigging he made for that boat, _school,_ and so many other strange things."

"Iron Born; Steel Forged," Cerlina interjected, repeating the callout I'd been using to dismiss the militia from drill practice. Harwick's beard shifted as he frowned.

He stood up and stepped away from the table. He paced over to the door and looked outside at the party going on. Notes from a stringed instrument wafted into the room. "Harlan, Cerlina, why don't you two go enjoy the party. I want to talk to Alex here alone."

Cerlina dashed away to play with her new friends without a second thought. Harlan waited a second before slowly standing and following her out. As he reached his father, he paused to say something to him. Harwick grunted in reply, and Harlan left. Now, it was just Harwick and me in the harborkeep.

Harwick drew one of his daggers and started tossing it. The dagger went up, twisting over itself, came down, and was caught. He did this several times before speaking.

"The world out there has gone crazy. The Greenlanders have quarantined all their ports. Which made getting home far harder. The few places that would talk with us spoke of their god's judgment bringing all low as punishment. Different causes according to different people. When we finally reached Lanhon, the people there were in even more of an uproar. All the isles are in chaos they said. A curse by the Herjawstargekin, angry at the Torewn Kirgent and his idiotic reforms has struck everywhere." The venom he placed on the title and word reforms made his feelings clear. He wasn't a fan. Fair enough, he was a longship captain. Reaving was his life so getting rid of it didn't win influence or friends with him.

"But it made me worried. We raced here as quick as the wind and oar would take us. I feared I would find Archentheckon in chaos, with thousands dead. At the worst, my children among them." He caught his dagger and turned to face me. "Instead I find a jynad with a welcome party waiting for me. The first people I meet off the boat are those children I worried about, and they thank you for it."

"You are a stranger. Not a Greenlander, but not an Ironborn. Yet, you were wearing Greenlander armor I remember bringing back after I watched Donnel Archentheckon kill the man wearing it when I was just twelve. Despite this, and despite there being others who might have welcomed us back, it is you that greeted me. It is you my children thanked for their survival." He stalked over to the table. His movements nearly silent despite the armor he was wearing.

"Where is Donnel? Where is Dagon? What happened to my Torewn and his heir?"

I stood, taking advantage of the fact it let me look down on him. "Death by disease or suicide. Given the sight in the Grenbaejhon main hall, a bit of both but mostly suicide. What drove them to it? Was it fear of the end times? A truly crazy Jaewrstargekin? No one will ever know. What I do know is I woke up in a Grenbaejhon with everyone seemingly dead, the gates thrown up and ruined, and the keep sealed. I found your children. I saved them.

Later, when I forced the keep, I discovered the household all dead. There was a babe with his head held in a barrel of seawater and everyone else seated at the tables bloated in death!"

"Lies! Donnel wouldn't commit suicide and a Euron wouldn't suggest it. Neither was so weak or brittle as that."

"News flash Harwick, they were. Unless disease got Donnel first, Euron died a corpse _priest_ as he drowned on dry land while he drowned the last babe in the keep. The maester only survived by sealing his rooms and eating the ravens."

Harwick and I stared at each other for several moments. His dagger was out and ready. My hand tugged at my ax. '_He isn't going to be my ally.' _I realized. He was the kind of man Balon Greyjoy would love. '_Do we try and kill each other tonight or is it going to be a cold war.'_

"So, what now? I already paid the Bren Taewr for this town when I killed Balon the blacksmith. I can get your crew the same way."

Harwick shoved me back, with a barking laugh. "Ha, Herjawstargekin damn if you don't have a set of iron balls at least, but if you think you can kill me like that fool you have another thing coming." He sheathed his dagger. "I'll let you live for now. You saved my children. For that, I won't kill you tonight."

He held up a single finger. "You have one week. One week to convince me what you've said is true and you are worthy of being the Torewn of this spit of rock. The Achent Hwanck is mine though. Forever and for always, you aren't half the man enough to take it, you tall bastard."

"I know my father, thank you very much," I replied, unable to keep back the sarcasm as the tension drained away.

Harwick denied to respond. Instead, he left for the party. I sank down into a chair, taking a deep breath. That hadn't been an easy conversation. Ultimately, I failed in what I set out to do.

'_Harwick will not be an ally going forward. So, what next?'_

'_I have a week to convince him. I must use the next seven days to demonstrate what I want to achieve. I wonder if I can get some of his crew to come teach in the yard?' _I considered the pros and cons of trying to convince the officers of the crew and have them be my advocates to Harwick.

I finished cleared away the used dinner plates and stepped out to let someone know they could take what remained on the platters.

Outside, the party was in full swing. People were playing instruments, singing, dancing, clapping, drinking, and eating the night away. I paused for a moment to watch. Victorian was telling stories to children, Tristan was flirting with a group of girls, Cerlina was dancing with a circle of her friends, and Harwick and Harlan were with a bunch of the crew watching a pair of men finger dance.

The band, such as it was, was composed of a few woodwinds and a pair of stringed instruments, one similar to a violin, the other a bass guitar. One of the women was singing an upbeat song of lovers long gone returned as they played.

This was the first time I'd seen a finger dance, so, after telling the first person I came across about the food, I walked over and watched for a moment. Seeing two people throwing axes at each other and catching or dodging them is an interesting experience. Not one I want to be involved in, but interesting, nonetheless.

I turned from the finger dance and made my way back towards the castle. I shared a few words here and there with the people before I made it out of the nolat bilck. I walked slowly back to the castle. There was a lot to consider and I wanted to have plenty of time to think it over.

When I reached the castle, a call went out. "Who goes there!"

"Alex!" I yelled out. A few seconds later the gates opened and Danbast greeted me with a torch.

"Torewn, you're the first back. Is the party over already?" He asked a bit of disappointment in his voice.

I shook my head. "No, it is still going strong. I was just done doing what I could and needed to." I stepped inside and the gate closed behind me. I laid a hand on Danbast's shoulder. "I appreciate all of you who stayed behind to watch the Grenbaejhon tonight. I'll get you something to make up for missing the party. Keep up the good work."

Danbast smiled a bit at my words, nodded, and returned to his post. I continued up into the keep to my room. I pulled my armor off, no easy task alone, and left it piled in the corner. '_I should probably clean that up.' _I thought but left it there anyway.

I went to my office, solar, whatever you are supposed to call it, and pulled out the documents I'd been writing. The start of a constitution, a strategy outline, goals, plans, stories, songs, all kinds of things on various bits and pieces of parchment, until I found what I was looking for.

It was a map of Achentheckon, a thin dotted line marked the area I currently could claim to control. In the fading daylight, I looked at it. The map was of remarkable quality for something in Westeros, but according to Maester Albar the Ironborn were excellent map makers.

'_Too bad both of the master mapmakers and their apprentices died in the flu. Hopefully, there was one on the ship. Otherwise we will have to start over like we are on a blacksmith. I'm just glad we were able to repair the gate with what was lying around and weapons can just be sharpened on a whetstone.'_

I looked it over. With more people, particularly warriors- and they were warriors, not soldiers- I needed something for them to do. While helping train the militia was an option, I was also sure it would drive them to boredom. '_No, I need something to keep them active. The question is do we go overland or oversea for the first expedition.' _

Overland had the benefit of allowing me to return to my controlled areas easier and push out in a slow fashion, linking the parts under my control. Going by sea would be faster, but if something happened, we would be more isolated.

'_Overland. It has to start overland.' _I looked at the map, tracing lines with my finger of where roads might go. "Yeah, that will work. Go out for about a day in each direction and see what's there. I can also plan to set up comms towers, some kind of signaling system for now, but maybe someday telegraph or even telephone."

The real question is would Harwick go for it. I'm sure his crew would do whatever he suggested. "Though that may be a false assumption." I wasn't sure if he would be willing to employ them in this manner, but I needed something to suggest.

The other consideration was what did I want to show off over the next day or two. '_I need to walk him through what happened, get him to understand the complete breakdown that was near to happening. Maybe I can just let him talk to people.'_

'_Even if they don't like me?_'

'_Even then. Full picture or else he will think I'm lying or trying to hide something. Harlan and Cerlina seem to be on my side, hopefully, that will help.'_

'_If it doesn't?'_

"_Then I'll have to try and cut a deal. Make him the top Admiral of the fleet, explain I want to build a fleet, take him sailing on the sloop-a-doop, and then put him in charge of building it.'_

'_Which raises a good question Alex, what about money? This isn't going to stay a semi-anarcho-communist commune where everyone is helping everyone out and sharing as needed to survive. It might work in Dwarf Fortess, but not in reality. Even if mine is a little strange right now.'_

'_I should be able to keep using golden dragons, and the other local currencies. The hard part will just be getting enough to fund everything.'_

'_Well, there is one way. Let him reave. He goes out with a shopping list of talent we need and comes back with a hold full of treasure and unexpectedly relocated tradesmen.'_

I stopped my thoughts and got up from the desk, rubbing my eyes as I looked away from the map. The sun was nearly down, so I pulled out the immediate plans parchment and jotted a note down. "I will put that in the possible, but probably a bad idea tab."

I used some sand and a bit of air blowing to dry it quickly and put that piece away last. The previously ruined parchment sheets had taught me my lesson there. '_Let's call it a night. Tomorrow the real fun begins' _

XxX

* * *

AN:

How will the SI do with his deadline? What will be his ultimate decision? Where will his moral compasses take him in the end? Would being a unexpectedly relocated Qohor smith be all that terrible. Likewise for a Myrish Glassmaker. Surely they would like the chance to see the world? Right?


	11. Chapter 10: The First Day

**Chapter 10: The First Day**

2 Ninth Moon 250

Tadst Quorin Cronewr and I were just starting training gear issue for the militia members drilling this morning when a cry went up from the sentry on the wall.

"Tort Harwick is approaching with a good-sized crowd!" The sentry cried down into the yard.

"Well let's go greet the good Tort, Tadst Cronewr. The rest of you continue getting ready. Take charge." I said pointing to one of the men who already had everything

"Let them in!" Quorin called out to the sentry as we hurried to the gatehouse. The gates opened slowly for the party as it reached the castle.

"Welcome and good morning, what brings _y'all_ here so early?" I called out as they came up the trail.

"These two insisted," Harwick grumbled as Harlan and Cerlina shot forward. "Since I don't need to be there to unload the cargo, I figured I could come see what you are teaching them in this _school _of yours."

"Alex! Has class started already? We aren't late, are we?" Cerlina asked. I saw Mat and Quinten standing a bit further back with their fathers as well. _'At least that explains where the missing orphans are; they're no longer orphans_.' I thought, recalling the empty places at breakfast.

I squatted down to address her directly. "They just started in on the _math _lesson. I'm sure you aren't too late to join them. Hurry along, if your father is fine with it?" I said, directing my last bit more at Harwick.

"It's fine by me, for now. I said I wanted to see this for myself and so do some of my crew. Let this be the start of your week, Stranger." He said. Not quite glaring, but not far off either.

I stood. "So be it. I'm sure they know the way. We can follow and discuss something else."

The children raced forward and Harwick walked beside me. Quorin on my other side. "Tort Harwick, this is Tadst Quorin Cronewr. He oversees the Grenbaejhon component of the militia."

"Tort," Quorin said with a respectful nod of his head. Harwick gave him a hard searching stare.

"Since when has there been a house Cronewr on Achentheckon, much less at all." He said. "You were one of the shepherds that watched Towern Achentheckon's flock, weren't you? Toothless Tom's son, I should think."

Quorin paled under Harwick's inspection. "What he was before matters not," I cut in.

"Matters not! He may be Ironborn, but his father was a vryhonjaewr and he was following the same soft life!"

"And then the plague came and everyone else died. What was is gone. Now it is the time for something new. He may have been born the son of a shepherd, but now he is the first new officer I have. One I would very much appreciate if you would help him learn how to lead and train men." I replied as evenly as I could.

"This is the future you want? Soft boys doing the work of men?"

I shook my head. "No. I want to forge those boys into worthy men. Just as a blacksmith works raw metal into a useful blade so too would I turn even the least worthy boy into a _soldier _to be feared on the battlefield_."_ I said passionately.

Harwick gave Quorin another look as we passed into the keep and started up the stairs to the space which had been turned into a classroom. "What help do you want?"

"Right now we have about two-hundred men who are a part of the militia. They are the ones with enough time out of their week that at least twenty can be on duty every day, with another twenty coming up here to train in the use of polearm, mace, ax, shield, and/or ranged weapon as appropriate. What I need is someone from your crew that can act as the _Drill Sergeant, a_ person that can teach them how best to use those weapons and fight as a unit." I said.

"I know I am not much of a warrior Tort Harwick. How could I be? As you said, I am the son of a vryhonjaewr. A shepherd. Barely Ironborn. But I survived the curse, the plague that took my father, my mother, my sibling, and drove many others mad. I survived and have found a new purpose." Quorin said.

We reached the classroom. The children rushed in and took their places, interrupting Maester Albar for a moment.

"Sorry for the interruption Maester. Some of these folks want to sit in on a lesson and try to understand what is happening here. Don't let them distract you too much?" I called out before turning my attention back to Quorin and Harwick.

Their eyes were locked and Quorin was slowly starting to straighten up from the slouch Harwick's initial lambasting had put him in.

"There are no other Cronewr. It is a name I chose for myself. Just as everyone is choosing a name for themselves. Something which is theirs and that no one can strip from them. Something to pass on to one's children, with all the legacy it carries." Quorin said. Then he seemed to catch himself and turned to me.

"I need to go make sure things are ready for training." He said and hurried off. Together we watched him retreat for a moment.

"You inspire loyalty it seems. We will talk of this granting of names after I see what has my children so eager to learn from the fool Greenlander." Harwick said, brushing past me to watch the lesson.

A few moments later, as I was exiting the keep, one of the crewmen came jogging up to me.

"Harwick said I was to help whip the greybeards and milksops into shape. Let's see what I have to work with," he said.

"_Alright,_ let's see what you can do with us," I said guiding him over to where the militia members had gathered.

XxX

"IRON BORN!" Quorin called out at the end of drill a couple of absolutely exhausting hours later.

"STEEL FORGED!" The militia answered tiredly, but eagerly. Glad for the end of the hellish session they'd just endured.

"Dismissed," Quorin ordered. With more precision than weeks ago, yet far from what I'd one day like to see, the militia fell out.

So maybe I introduced basic US military drill and ceremony here. Well, the drill part anyway. As much as I hated marching around, it was a useful tool to build discipline, comradery, and to get a group of people used to moving and working together.

Either way, they took a step back and devolved into a mob. With dragging limbs and tired steps, they headed for the armory to return their practice gear.

Jayson, the name of the man from Harwick's crew, watched it impassionately. He was an excellent trainer. Seeing what he could do turned into the most brutal training session since I took control of the town.

Once the yard was empty of everyone except Jayson and I, he turned to me and asked, "What was that all about at the end there?"

"How much did you hear about my conversation with Tort Harwick last night or from the _townsfolk_?" I asked.

"If'n _townsfolk _means the people living in Achentheckon, not much. From Tort Harwick… Well, the Tort said you were probably crazier than a Targaryen drinking wildfire, claiming you were not from anywhere in Westeros, Essos, or beyond, but someplace no one could ever sail to, and that you had some plan to change the Ironborn."

I nodded. "And that was a part of it. Iron is fine and all, but steel is stronger, better. I want the people of this island to think like that. That they may be born solid, reliable, and capable like iron, but they can become something more through the forging of themselves into people of steel."

Jayson snorted. "You really are crazy. If that lot is what you think to do it with. They are weak, slow, and incompetent. I would rather fight beside an angry salt wife from Lys than put them into battle." He said.

'_Well, that is a wonderful image.' _I thought, but he wasn't done.

"But for all that, they didn't give up. So maybe there is something to what you are saying."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Don't mistake them for what I think the future army should look like. I know they aren't the best, but they are what I have. Someone needed to be able to defend this place. Who better than the people that live here?"

Jayson was silent for a long time before he spoke again. "And what does that future army look like?"

A number of thoughts ran through my mind at the question. Gunpowder was a long way off. Flight, prop-driven, let alone jet power, was just a dream. Rockets were a maybe. The Chinese and Koreans had them for a long time after all. Steam power wasn't an impossibility. But he was talking about now. Today. At this moment in time.

The now which was Vikings with longship, quick raids, and rapid actions. What kind of army would that be? Well the first answer that popped into my head was one of pike and bolt. Squares and spikes designed to litter the battlefield with the corpses of cavalry while supported by organic artillery in the form of some manner of ballistae.

But then I realized that wasn't the kind of army I needed right now either.

Vikings with longships who raided and were not out to take land didn't need a large army. I needed special forces. Something designed to get in and out quickly with maximum violence.

"The army I want right now isn't one." I realized. Jayson started to speak, but I held up a finger to forestall his rebuttal. "When I say army, I mean tens of thousands of men, long supply lines, _artillery,_ infantry, cavalry all working with coordination to bring death to the enemy, to take and hold territory, and enforce a _nation's _will. There isn't a need for it. What I need is an _elite _force. The best of the best warriors who can chew through their opposite number. I need a force that can strike without warning, win its goals and leave before there can be a response."

Jayson laughed. "Well we do that already; don't see why you think we can be better?"

"You can always be better. Better weapons, better equipment, better _tactics_, better training, better ships."

"And which can you provide?" He asked.

"Better training. Maybe not the actual training, but the methods. Same for ships. I think I can provide you with new designs to try. Equipment too. For weapons, well that is a thing that is a problem right now. With Balon the blacksmith dead, there aren't any others in town."

Jayson just stared at me for a long minute. "You are serious. You think you can provide better ships? Ha. That I want to see. The training, again I am a better trainer than you. As for the rest, I don't even know where to begin." Jayson walked away laughing.

I watched him go. He wasn't exactly wrong. He'd also given me something to think about. All this time I had been thinking about defending the castle and town and building the militia around that. The army to support that would be lots of pikes, polearms, and crossbows to kill an army on open ground.

'_Dothraki on an Open field, Ned!' _The Bobby-B meme played in my head before I shook it away.

But that wasn't the military force I needed. While a navy was in the making- okay it was a couple of rough sketches and an order of battle plan- it needed to be manned and crewed. For that I think I can stick with building Annapolis 2.0, and training according to specialties on the ships. At the end of the day, I also needed a way to enforce my will on the shore. Hell for all the good a blockade might do, even the British had to put boots on the ground to achieve anything and no one was more navy than them.

'_So Marines. But what kind of crayon eating devil dogs do I want to turn these folks into.' _It was a serious question, and it wasn't going to have a quick answer. That would be a problem to worry over tonight. With drill over, it was about time for SCIENCE! class, capitals and exclamation point are mandatory.

Today's lesson: Further study into abiogenesis. Because why yes, that was still a thing here. Fortunately, so too were glass jars. At least enough glass jars for this class.

I stored my own gear in the armory, gave myself a quick wipe down for the sweat, and made my way to the classroom. This was going to be fun. '_I just hope Harwick will see it that way.'_


End file.
